6 Months to Life
by Damien J. Frost
Summary: Sam has pushed her luck for the last time. With jail beckoning, and a bleak future on the horizon, can she find hope with her best friend? CAM Novel.
1. Chapter One: Get Lost

**6 Months to Life  
**by Damien J. Frost

**Disclaimer:** iCarly, and all items associated with, are property of Dan Schneider, Nickelodeon, et al. There is no profit being gained from the content of this story and it is to be used solely for private entertainment purposes. The plot is the intellectual property of the writer. No parts of this story are to be duplicated or posted elsewhere without the expressed permission of the author.

This story is rated "M" or "R" by the guidelines of the fansite on which it is posted.

--

**Chapter One  
**_Get Lost_

This sucks.

No, let me rephrase that.

This unquestionably, irrevocably, undoubtedly, indubitably, utterly sucks like the Almighty Overlord of the Super Hoovers.

Yeah, that's more like it.

This makes strike three. Or something.

"Sam Puckett?"

I look up at the insult to pig products everywhere and wave half-heartedly.

"Yo."

He raises an eyebrow and smirks.

"Come on. Detective Mccown wants to talk to you."

He waits as I climb slowly – and theatrically agonizingly, might I add – to my feet. I shuffle over to the bars and hold my hands through so he can put the cuffs on. Hey now, this isn't my first rodeo.

The cell door opens and he leads me down a few halls and into an interrogation room. The wonderful Detective is already waiting for me. I plop down in the seat across from him as my escort takes up a spot next to the door.

"So, Samantha, how're things?"

I glare at him.

"Dude, just call me Sam, please. It's not like you don't know that I'm a lot more cooperative when you don't patronize me."

He smirks and shrugs. He flips open the file folder in front of him.

"I know, you're just fun to rile up. So, a Mercedes SLK this time? What happened to Cutlasses and Towncars?"

I grin and lean back.

"It was shiny."

He shakes his head and closes the folder. His smirk is gone and he's onto being Mr. Serious-Cop-Guy-Thing… whatever.

"Sam, this is the third time. Once, you're joyriding. Twice, you're stupid. Three times? You're working for someone. You know, we can probably get you out of jail time if you work with us and give him up."

I laugh. Not the amused 'ha ha' that's funny laugh – even though it really is – but more of the 'yeah, right' laugh.

"Doug – do you mind if I call you Doug?"

He blinks at me.

"My name's Matt."

I shrug.

"Anyway, Doug, let's say I go along with this "plan" of yours."

I do the little air quotes and smile.

"I give up my so-called "employer" and somehow manage to avoid jail time, while you all try to put something together on this "employer" person. Now, I am a sensible girl, and I'm assuming that this "employer" that you're speaking of is as well. Otherwise why would a sensible person like myself work for them? Now, I get busted, but get away Scott-free and Mr.-slash-Ms. "employer" gets busted immediately after? I wonder who I'd be looking for if I were this "employer" person."

He stares at me for a second. I grin back. He's probably wondering if I'll plead insanity. I think it's a distinct option, honestly.

"So you're not going to help."

My face falls into astonishment.

"Dude… did they teach you how to figure shit like that out in Detective School? Awesome! Sign me up for Basic Deductive Reasoning!"

He shakes his head and turns to my silent escort.

"Take her back to her cell."

I pop out of my chair and let myself be led back to the cell, bubbly and happy as we walk. I get into my cell, get my hands uncuffed, and wave goodbye to the blue-uniformed insult to bacon.

As soon as he's out of sight, I plop down on the bed, stare up at the ceiling and try to get some sleep. I'm going to be here a while.

--

"Ms. Puckett, your bail is set at $10,000. Do you wish to pay this?"

I shrug and shake my head.

"No, your honor. Just stick me in a hole and – "

A voice from the back of the room interrupts a very tasteful joke about rats and shit. Really! Okay, maybe not tasteful. But it _was_ funny.

"I'll pay it, your honor."

I turn slightly and my jaw literally drops at the sight of Spencer walking up next to me in a snazzy-looking suit. I didn't know he cleaned up so nice. And I didn't know he knew that I was in jail. Again.

"And who are you?"

He smiles brightly, the same disarming smile that works on everyone. Except this judge apparently.

"Spencer Shay, sir. I'm a family friend."

The judge – Judge McCormack (what is with the Mc's?) – studies Spence for a moment. He then looks down at the file in front of him.

"Yes, it looks like you're registered in her file. Well, as a family friend, maybe you can make sure that Ms. Puckett's mother makes it to her next court date. Which will be on the 14th of next month."

I cringe as Spencer nods.

"I'll do my best, your honor."

The judge nods.

"Very well. Settle up with the County Clerk and I'll see that Ms. Puckett is released into your care."

He bangs his gavel and I'm led away to the holding cells as Spencer, for some odd reason, hands over ten grand to the state for me. I mean, he'll get it back if I don't jump bail – which I won't, I wouldn't do that to him – but the fact he has ten grand to waste on me? Dude must be more loaded than I thought. And yeah, ten grand is a total waste on someone like me.

The worst part is that this isn't the first time he's done it for me. The whole reason the judge said I could be released into his care is that my mom signed something by the lawyer I always get. It basically says Spencer is a legal custodian of me in the absence of my mother.

Fun, right? Yeah, not so much.

An hour later, I'm out of my fashion show-worthy orange jumpsuit and into some of my clothes Spence got from Carly's room.

Carly.

Shit.

I walk out into the lobby and spot Spencer immediately. And right there next to him on the bench is Carly.

"Sam!"

She lurches off the bench and runs across the lobby. She fairly leaps into my arms, and only my impeccable balance keeps us both on our feet.

"Hey cupcake, what's up?"

She pulls herself from my arms and slugs me in the shoulder. It doesn't hurt, 'cause she's a wuss and everything, but I humor her and rub the spot she hit.

"Ow! What was that for?"

She puts her hands on her hips, tilts her head to the side and gives me that really cute 'Oh, come on' look.

"Oh, the jail thing? Pfft, no big deal. It'll blow over."

She shakes her head like she's irritated, but I can see her trying not to smile.

"You're impossible, Sam."

I grin and nod as I throw an arm around her shoulder. I turn her toward the door and start walking. Spencer falls into step beside us. I look over at him behind Carly's head and mouth "Thank you." He smiles and shrugs.

That man is one of the truly nice and honest people in this world. He's an amazing person.

I look at his sister, who's eyeing me worriedly, and can't help but think that they both are.

"Alright, let's blow this taco stand! Ooh… Tacos. Let's go get tacos."

--

Its 2 AM two days after Spencer came and bailed my ass out. And where am I? Out on the street, doing the exact thing that got me arrested in the first place. Great way to show my appreciation for him, I know.

What can I say? A girl needs money. Especially when she's got an unemployed drunk mother to take care of.

I pop the lock on the black Escalade I've been eyeing, and grin when no alarm sounds. People in the suburbs are so sure nothing can happen to them that half of them don't even lock their cars. Sure, they double check their house door and stuff, but their cars? Nah. I've even seen people who leave their garage open all night. Talk about a false sense of security. I've stolen cars from under people – literally.

I slide into the car and turn off the interior light. I shut the door so that it only clicks. I pop open the electrical panel and find the right wires. A zap here and there and vroom, we're off. I back out, leaving the lights off, put it in gear and off I go.

A little ways down the street, I turn on the lights, open and shut the door all the way, and then its off into downtown Seattle, cruising at five over the limit, like a normal person. I take several back roads and alleys and end up in a rundown place full of warehouses. Yeah, real upper-class place. But hey, I'm an upper class kinda girl.

I pull to a stop in front of one of the ware houses, hop out, and knock on the door. Three, Three, Four, Two.

I step back and the door rolls up and the sounds of cars getting chopped fills the night air. I smile as my "employer" walks out. His name is Thrift, and he's black, big, and not all that imposing. He's about as thick as a piece of spaghetti. But he's got a mind on him that'd blow away an MIT grad.

"What is up, White Girl?"

Yeah, that'd be me. Real original, huh?

"Hey Thrift, I got a nice little Escalade for you."

I grin and do my best Vanna White impression. He laughs and nods.

"Sweet, girl. Pull her in."

I hop in and pull the Caddie into the warehouse. The overhead door closes quickly behind me. I turn off the engine, climb out and am immediately grabbed by strong, gelatinous arms. I'm pinned to the ground a split second later, a size thirteen boot on my cheek.

Thrift kneels his 6'-5" wiry frame down next to me. He's holding a Gloc in his hand. Considering I've already had to pull one bullet out of my thigh thanks to that gun, I'm understandably nervous with him waving it around, inches from me.

"I heard you got pulled in last week."

With my capacity for speech severely impaired by the fat fucker standing on my face, I merely glare at my "employer." He scratches his cheek with the barrel of his gun.

"You know, I also heard they offered you a deal. And that you took it."

Fucking cops.

"Of course, you'd never do that right?"

I grunt out something that sounds like 'Uf cuth ot' but is really 'Of course not.' I swear!

He looks like he might have understood me, because he smiles and nods.

"Of course not. Let her up, Jimmy."

The pressure is off my face, and I'm up and swinging at Jimmy in a blink. My right hand connects with his fat gut, bringing his never-seen-the-sun white face down to where I can plant a roundhouse kick dead on the side of his head.

What? I took karate for ten years. Give a girl some credit.

The bastard hits the ground, out like a light. Wow. I've never knocked someone out with one hit before. Nice.

"Damn, girl. Did you kill him?"

I shake my head. I can still see him breathing. Lucky fuck.

"Well, whatever. Here's your five. Now get outta here. I don't want to see you back 'til you've settled your shit in court. I can't have the cops sniffin' around you while you're bringing me shit."

I snatch the five hundred and look at him wide-eyed.

"What the fuck am I supposed to do about money? I've barely got rent covered. I'm not going to be able to eat!"

He shrugs and puts his gun in the back of his pants.

"Not my problem. But if you come 'round here again while you're still hot? Now that _will_ be my problem. And I'll sure as fuck make it yours, too."

I glare at him for another minute before shaking my head and walking off. Jimmy is starting to stir as I pass him, so I give him another kick in the gut. It makes me feel a little better.

I walk out the door and flip up the hood on my sweatshirt, looking at the dark road and shivering in the cold. It's going to be a long walk.

--

I pick the lock on Carly's window and slide it open. She shifts in her bed a little and looks over at me, her eyes half-open.

"Sam?"

I grin as I slide the window shut behind me.

"It's me, pumpkin. Go back to sleep. I need to go to the bathroom, and then I'll be in bed."

She nods tiredly and closes her eyes. She mumbles tiredly.

"There're p.j.s on the chair."

I sigh and walk out of her room. I head for the studio and quietly open the door, sliding inside. I don't bother to shut it; I'll be in and out in a minute.

I quickly move to an air vent on the far wall. I pry off the cover and it gives easily, having been pulled off several times for this very reason. I reach in and pull out the coffee can in there. I pop open the lid and look inside with a slight smile. I pull the five hundred out of my pocket, grab two bills and put the other three back. Then, I grab the wad I'm working on out of the can and undo the rubber band. I put the two new hundreds with the other thirty-seven.

The light flicks on and I spin in surprise, trying to hide the money.

Carly's standing there, looking at me with confused and tired eyes.

"I thought you were going to the bathroom?"

I stutter out something that doesn't really make sense. I close my eyes and shake my head. This is just great. I can hear her slippers as she moves closer to me.

"Sam what're you… Oh my God."

Great, she's seen the money. I open my eyes and am surprised when she's inches from my face, inspecting my cheek.

"You have a shoeprint on your cheek."

Oh. Whoops.

"Yeah… about that… I um… can't think of a plausible story."

She sighs and shakes her head.

Then, she spots the money.

"Sam?"

She sounds a little weak, and, really, it's understandable.

"Where did all this money come from?"

I think about lying to her. I really do. But she's looking at me in that way that I know that if I lie to her now, I'll never be able to stop. And I don't want to lie to her.

Not Carly.

So I shrug and grin in that way she loves.

"Hey, whoever said crime doesn't pay was either a cop or a lousy crook."

She turns back to the can and picks one of the rolls out.

"How much?"

I can't look at her, so I focus on rewrapping the roll I had pulled out.

"Right now? Thirteen thousand, nine hundred dollars."

She drops the money like it burned her.

"Sam!"

I sigh and toss the finished roll into the can.

"What do you want me to say, Carly?"

She looks at me, astonished.

"You have to give this back."

I start laughing. It's just too absurd. Give the money back? To who? Thrift? Riiiiiight. That'd work. He'd shoot me the second he saw me.

"Sam, stop it. I'm serious."

I shake my head as the last of the giggles fade.

"Carly, I didn't steal this money. This is what I got paid for the things I did steal."

She looks down at her hands, and I can see the tears starting down her cheeks. Great. Congratulations, Sam, you've done it again.

"Sam, you have to stop this."

I seal up the can and return it to the spot in the vent. Then I turn back to her.

"Carly, I can't do anything else. I'm the only one making money at home right now. If I don't do this, we don't make rent. We don't eat. We don't have heat in the middle of winter."

She's still staring at her hands, and I know that I'm telling her things she doesn't want to hear. She knows all this. She's my best friend, of course she knows this. But it's easier for both of us if she ignores it most of the time.

"Carls, my mom may be a deadbeat drunk, but she's still my mom. She's the only family I've got left. I can't just abandon her."

She looks up at me then, anger blazing in her eyes.

"Why not!? She's all but abandoned you! Why are you putting yourself through this for someone like that?"

Okay, that hurt. Not because it's not the truth, but because it is. It's something I've thought about. Why do you think I have so much money saved up? But still, for Carly to say it…

"My dad asked me to look after her."

It's weak, I know. But it's the reason. My dad was everything to me. He could do no wrong, in that way that all good daddies can do no wrong.

Even after the police came for him.

Even after he got a life-sentence for killing some guy.

Even now.

"So you're going to take care of her the same way your dad did? By going to jail?"

I look up at her, her soft voice startling me. She's crying again.

"I… I'm not…"

But the protest dies on my lips because she's shaking her head and flinging tears everywhere.

"Yes, you are Sam! This is it! There's no more 'Get Out of Jail Free' card. You're going to jail! And after all of that… you go out and do it again."

Now it's me staring at my hands. She's right.

Fuck.

She's right.

"I'm sorry."

And it's so unbelievably inadequate that I almost laugh. They really need to think of a word better than sorry for these really **big** sorry moments.

"I just… I can't deal without you, Sam."

I look up into her eyes and smile softly.

"Come on, Carls. You've always been stronger than me. How else could you pull of this good girl routine every day?"

She smiles, just like I want her too.

"Because I've always had you there to catch me."

Now I'm crying. Fuck.

I hate crying.

Carly looks away, pretending I'm not crying. She's good like that.

When I finally have my wayward tear ducts under control, I reach out and grab her hands and pull her into my lap. I used to do this all the time when we were younger and I was bigger than her. You know, when she'd get picked on or scrape her knee or something. After I beat the crap out of whatever hurt her, of course. She settles into my lap and curls up so that her forehead is resting in the crook of my neck.

"I'm sorry I let you down, cupcake. I've just been trying… I don't know. Anything I think of sounds like bullshit. I'm sorry. Just, I don't know, be good while I'm gone."

She nods into my shoulder, and I can feel her tears soaking into my shirt.

"When I get back, we'll do something. Something just awesome. Like visit a ham factory in Nicaragua or something."

She chuckles and I smile.

Then she leans back and looks at me with serious eyes. I hate Carly's serious eyes. Seriously. Mainly because she can get me to do anything when she looks at me like that.

"How about we just get lost?"

I smile and press my forehead to hers. I can do that.

"Yeah. Let's just get lost."

--


	2. Chapter Two: What Just Happened?

**Chapter Two  
**_What Just Happened?_

I'm bored. Maybe I should let someone know. Oh look, there's Carly. She'll solve this plight of extreme boredom.

"I'm bored."

Carly looks over at me and grins. I'm hanging off her bed, my head inches from the ground. She's sitting at her vanity, brushing her hair.

"What would you like me to do about it?"

I cock my head to the side, which brings the world into a weird almost-right-side-up perspective.

"I dunno. Entertain me. Can you do any stupid human tricks? Well, any new ones?"

She shakes her head. I sigh. We fall further into silence. Or back into silence. Yeah. The second one. Whatever. She turns back to her mirror.

"Carly?"

She continues brushing her hair.

"Mm-hm?"

I grin mischievously.

"I'm bored."

She sets her brush on the table and turns completely toward me. She clasps her hands in her lap and leans forward.

"Okay, how about we go shopping then?"

My lip curls involuntarily. Of all the… I thought she knew me better than that.

"Shopping? Carls, I want to be _less_ bored."

I hope she's joking. She's not smiling, though. Which means she's not joking. Crap.

"I think we should find you something for court. You know, something that doesn't scream 'I'm a delinquent! Do what you will!'"

I swat at her even though she's really too far away for it be a serious threat. Although it is a threat. I hope she understands that. Probably not. It's not like I'd ever do anything to her. So I guess it's not a threat. Carly Shay wins again. Carly 127 – Sam 2.

"That hurts, Carly Shay. Right into the cockles of my heart, it does."

She grins and rolls her eyes.

"I'm sure it would if you had one, you heartless criminal you. Now come on, we're going shopping."

That's it. I've completely and utterly lost. This is so not fair. I slide the rest of the way to the floor and lie there, crumpled. I stare pitifully up at Carly from my prone position.

She just laughs. And she calls me heartless.

--

Okay, I never really thought that I would go to the prom. It's not really a big deal. On top of not really wanting to go, I never really saw the point of spending $300 – or more, God forbid – on a dress you'd only wear once.

I mean really, what's the point?

But, here I am, being persuaded into buying a $300 dress that I'm only going to wear once. To court. Every girl's dream, let me tell you.

Whoopee.

"Oh, this one's perfect!"

I don't even turn to look at Carly before I shake my head.

"Nope. Too expensive."

I hear her indignant gasp and smirk.

"You haven't even looked at it."

I glance over my shoulder and see a flash of black before returning to the dress shirts I'm browsing through.

"Too expensive."

I hear a series of little thuds and I know she's jumping up and down and throwing a mini-fit.

"Sa-am!"

I chuckle and turn back to the light of my life. Well, her and ham. Mmm… ham. Ham and cheddar cheese on rye and –

"Stop thinking about ham and help me help you!"

I look at her, startled. Am I that easy to read? Of course I am. This is ham we're talking about!

"Alright pumpkin. How's this: I don't want to spend a ridiculous amount on something that will end up sitting in an evidence locker or whatever for a couple years. So, let's either go to a thrift store like I originally suggested, or help me pick out some slacks, a shirt and a tie."

She groans and throws her head back.

"Fine."

I raise an eyebrow and cross my arms. She's so cute when she's acting like a two-year old. It makes me just want to pinch her widdle cheeks.

"Fine what? I asked you an either or question."

She puts the dress back and glares. Her bottom lip is sticking out a little.

"Let's go to the thrift store. I am _not_ letting you go to court dressed like a guy."

I grin and hold out my arm. She rolls her eyes and threads her arms around mine. We walk out into the mall in a comfortable silence.

After we've passed a few stores, Carly sighs. She releases my arm and grabs my hand.

"What am I going to do without you, Sam?"

She's drawing little patterns on my palm, leaving it up to me to guide us through the sparse mall crowd.

She's asked me this at least once everyday since it sunk in that I was going to jail. Well, probably. I hope not. I know, I know. I'm going to the clink. Where did that term come from anyway? Clink. Heh. That's a funny word. Clink clink clink. Heh.

"Be happy, fall in love, annoy Fredwardo. The real question is what am _I_ going to do without _you_? I mean, I'll be locked up with all that criminal influence. It's bound to rub off on me somehow."

She grins and shakes her head.

"Oh please, Sam. If anything, you'll be the bad influence on all of them. Teaching them ways to be better criminal and all. Picking locks, beating the snot out of uncooperative victims – the list is endless."

I laugh and nod as we walk into the cheapo, used crap store. I love this place. It's one of those stores that scream 'I am Sam!' Wasn't that a movie? Huh. I think it was.

"You know me, kiddo. The kingpin of Seattle crime."

--

I look like a clown.

Actually, I think clowns wear less makeup than this.

I look like a mime.

I hate mimes. I hate clowns too, but I hate mimes more.

I can actually _feel_ my pores clogging with this semi-nontoxic, tested on animals garbage.

"You look great."

I glare up at the monster that attacked me with the cosmetic blitzkrieg. Londoners are running in fear from the threat of this attack. It's that disturbing and horrific.

"I look like a freak. A freak with a skin condition. And an aversion to ham. Do I have an aversion to ham, Carly? Or any other meat-like substances? No! I even eat SPAM!"

She's shaking her head and smiling.

"I'm not quite sure what ham or SPAM really have to do with this, but just look at yourself in the mirror. Please?"

Ugh. She said please. I hate it when she says please.

I turn and look at the mirror in her vanity.

What the… Is that me?

"Holy shit on a hamburger bun. And fuck a fry too."

I can see Carly grinning and nodding to herself in the reflection.

"Carls, this is… wow."

She leans down and wraps her arms around my neck from behind.

"You're gorgeous, Sam. You always have been."

I blush and look away.

She's always saying things like that.

It's not that I don't like the compliment, I just… don't know how to take it, I guess. It's not like I've gotten a whole lot of them in my life.

"Thanks, I guess."

She nods decisively, gives me a peck on the cheek and then straightens out.

"Now, for being such a good sport, let's go get you some ham, missy."

Now that's what I'm talking about.

--

They're all staring at me. I just know it. And this isn't paranoia. I know people are out to get me. It's not paranoia if it's true.

I have my head in my arms, pretending to sleep. This is different from a normal day only in the fact that I'm _pretending_.

I'm usually able to sleepwalk through my first three periods. You know, no problems, no worries, no one bothering me. I generally wake up sometime in the middle of fourth period, as people start gearing up for lunch.

But, here I am, wide-awake at 7:30 in the morning. At school. Shoot me now.

From what I could hear of the gossip this morning – during which my name came up more often than it had since I kicked Rip-Off Rodney in the nuts for selling me a defective iPod – apparently the douche that served as my silent escort the night I got arrested has a kid here. And the asshole told said kid that I was arrested.

So now everyone's looking at me with wary eyes, wondering if I'm going to mug them.

Fuck nuts. Like I'd even waste my time with these stuck-up punks that care for nothing more than who's fucking who.

I've got more important things to deal with.

I wonder how many of them wonder and worry about where their next meal is coming from. Or if they're going to come home to find their mom dead in a puddle of her own vomit. Or if they're going to get shot at while they try to scrape a little money together.

Or if they're going to jail because they don't know how to do anything else.

Fucking assholes.

"Hey, Sam."

I sigh heavily and raise my head enough to glare at the speaker before settling my head back on my desk.

"What do you want, Freddork?"

Little nerd is probably all giddy that I'm going to be locked up. It'll give him a free shot at Carly without me there to dissuade him – often in a physical manner.

"Um, Carly told me what's going on. Are you okay?"

My head goes over my arms again so I can kill the twerp with my eyes. It isn't working. Shit. I need to make a note to work on that.

"That has to be the single dumbest thing you've ever asked me. And trust me, there's a long list. A _very_ long list."

I wonder if he will ever just choke and die. That'd be a great day.

"Yeah. Yeah."

Moron.

"If you say yeah one more time, I'm going to put you in a thong and then pull it over your ears."

He snorts. Bastard thinks I'm joking.

"Look, I was just wondering if there's anything you need. You know, if you need me to look in on your mom or whatever. Just name it, okay? Regardless of how we act, I'm your friend and I'm here."

I have to be tired. Not only is Freddie offering me his help, but I'm actually tearing up about it. I really need to sleep more. I nod mutely, and that's the end of that. He knows better than to say anything else. I might actually give him a black eye.

Class starts and the day goes on. Another beautiful fucking day in the life of Sam fucking Puckett.

--

It's 3 AM. It's raining. Of course it's raining. This is _Seattle_. It's always fucking raining. I'm sitting on the curb in a run-down part of the city, staring at a 1972 Chevelle across the parking lot.

Did I mention it's raining?

I've never stolen a car just for the hell of it. You know, like Nic Cage says in _Gone in 60 Seconds_, you boost a car and just fly. I've always been more pragmatic. How much can I get for it, how quickly can I dump it – that kind of stuff.

But right now, I'm tempted to.

I can feel my Slim Jim in my back pocket and I know I could pop the lock and have that car on the road in a minute. Tops.

I didn't always steal cars. I used to just steal the shit _in_ cars. You know, wallets, purses, stereos, things that have street value or money. It's also how I got such an eclectic CD collection.

One time I popped a car and leaned in to bust out the stereo. Next thing I knew, I was shoved into the passenger seat, and this guy climbs into the driver's seat and glares at me. Then, he grins, hotwires the car and we're off. That was my introduction to Thrift and my first lesson in grand theft auto.

But here I am, banished by my mentor, and thinking about breaking one of the cardinal rules of thievery: Don't ever do something just for the hell of it.

And really, it's a good point. You have to be smart to be successful. The muscle always gets caught in the long run, because they never think. Like Jimmy. That fat fuck will be in jail in a month because of some retard thing he did. And then Thrift will be out for another strong arm.

And I'll be sitting in a cell wondering what the fuck went wrong with me.

"Hey, little girl, you need some magic? You need to feel good?"

I turn and spot some dumbass dealer making his way over to me.

"Nah, man. I'm just scoping out some business."

He tilts his head and comes to a stop next to me. I lean my head back and look up at him. He's probably in his early twenties, but life on the street makes him look more like he's eighty.

"That's cool. But if you're looking at the muscle car, I'd take off. I saw some cop drop it off."

Fuck a duck. Talk about procrastination paying off for once.

"Thanks."

I climb to my feet and pull a bill out. Info like that isn't free, I know. I reach out and shake his hand, slipping him the cash in the process. He grins and walks off down the street, whistling.

I take one last look at the car before I take off the other way, one thought in my mind.

I can't wait to get home and curl up with Carly.

--

The window's open when I get to Carly's room, so I poke my head in. She's lying on her bed, dead to the world and Nick at Nite is flashing over the dark room. She tried to wait up for me.

My heart softens and I can't help the smile that spreads at the site of her, popcorn abandoned on her nightstand, pink bunny slippers propped up on a blanket and a fleece blanket tucked over her arms.

I slide the window closed and she wakes slightly. Her eyes open and she smiles sleepily.

"Hey, you. Where've you been?"

I shrug as I push off my shoes and shed my rain-soaked clothing.

"Out committing acts of a dubious and nefarious nature."

She frowns at me as I pull on the pajamas she always leaves out for me.

"Sam… what did you do?"

I smile as I slide into bed next to her, enjoying her body heat after the bone-chilling rain.

"Oh, you know, the usual. Despoiled a couple virgins, plundered a few villages – that sort of thing."

She smiles and shakes her head.

"Sam, come on."

I sigh and wrap my arms around her.

"I was going to steal another car, but I didn't. I didn't do anything tonight. Just sat out in the rain and stared at the car."

She snuggles closer into me and sighs contently.

"Good. I'm proud of you."

She rolls over and kisses me.

Like _kisses _me.

Holy _fucking_ shit.

What.

The.

Fuck.

I'm wide-eyed and wide-awake, now.

She just rolls back over and in a few seconds her breathing levels out and she's dead to the world.

What just _happened_?

--

I haven't slept.

Seriously, would you have?

I've had time to think about it.

About Carly and me and _us_.

And I'm okay with it.

Better than okay really.

I _want_ it. Talk about a mind-fuck.

Everything just kind of fit together over these last four hours. That's right, I've been lying here, stiff as a board and holding onto Carly for dear life for four hours. Yeah, yeah, I'm a twit.

Carly yawns and snuggles closer to me – which, for the record, I thought was impossible.

"Mmmm… Sam?"

Her sleepy voice sends the butterflies in my stomach into a frenzy. When did sleepy Carly become _sexy_?

"Yeah?"

Great, now I sound like a teenage boy going through puberty. Seriously, whose voice cracks on one word?

"You hungry?"

I grin, but shake my head.

"No, not really."

She rolls over in my embrace and stares at me in amazement and confusion.

"You _are_ Sam, right?"

I grin and nod, settling my forehead against hers.

"Yep. The very same one you kissed last night."

Her face pales and her eyes go wide.

There's a whole lot of silence as she stares at me and I stare back.

"S-S-Sam. I… I… oh my God, I'm sorry. I didn't… oh my God."

I decide to put her out of her misery. I smile and shake my head lightly.

"You know, you're a pretty good kisser."

She looks at me in shock for a second more before breaking out in the most adorable blush. She smiles and squints her eyes closed tightly.

"Yeah?"

Aw, she's so cute. Like a puppy. Except that puppies pee on carpets. Carly doesn't do that. Well, I _really_ hope she doesn't. That's just ew. Like, major ew. Killing the mood here, so moving on.

"Actually, I'm not sure. I might need another one to make sure."

She opens one eye to study my face and see if I'm teasing her. After she makes certain that I'm not, she closes her eye, pushes her face forward that last couple inches and kisses me. Then she pulls away.

"Oh, come on. That was barely a peck. If you're gonna kiss me, _kiss_ me."

She smiles goofily, slides her arms around my neck and _kisses _me.

Talk about a world-altering moment.

We don't separate for five minutes. We don't get out of bed for another hour.

Even when the smell of bacon drifts into the room.

--


	3. Chapter Three: When Life Attacks

**Chapter Three  
**_When Life Attacks_

Mmmmm… Lucky Charms rock. They rock like Fraggle Rock. Like Schoolhouse Rock. They just rock.

And yes, I do know what Fraggle Rock is. Spencer thought Carly and I were deprived children and went out and bought all the DVDs and forced us to sit on the couch and watch them all. It was both traumatizing and entertaining. It made me realize much more about Spence's inner workings than any sane person would want to know.

Although I still don't know how everything catches on fire. It's like mole men or Kevin Costner still being allowed to make movies. Some mysteries can never be explained.

"So…"

I look next to me at my… well, at Carly. We haven't really decided what we're doing, or where we're going, or anything for that matter. We made out for an hour and then came down and ate breakfast. I know, awesome right? The only thing more awesome would be eating breakfast _while_ making out. I wonder if Carly would be up for that?

Spencer already ate all the bacon when I got to the kitchen. He fled shortly after seeing me. Like I was going to hurt him or something. Am I really that kind of person?

Okay, the possibility _did_ exist.

"So."

She smiles shyly, and it's weird. I'm not used to shy Carly. She's just not shy with me. Like, when she had her first period, I came over and immediately after I walked in the front door, she's at the top of her staircase yelling that she'd had her period. Really, really loudly. I think Mrs. Benson fainted. Of course, that could just be a condition of being her. Frickin' weirdo.

"Are we… dating? Or what do you want to do?"

I grin. This is so cute. Adorable even.

"Carly, we're sixteen. I think we're past the point where we don't know what we're doing."

She blushes and almost vanishes. Seriously. There're some tomatoes on the counter beside her and she just blends right in.

"Well, okay… Um, Sam… Do you want to… go out with me?"

I bring my hand to my chin and stare off into space for second, pretending to ponder the situation. Ponder is an awesome word. Ponder pander wonder funder… Funder? Where the fuck did that come from? Seriously, I wonder about myself sometimes. Heh. Pander. It's like the spawn of Panda and funder.

"Sam?"

I snap back to Carly, who's starting to look a little worried. Whoops.

"Of course I want to go out with you, Carly Shay. You feed me. _And_ you're a good kisser."

She gives me a wry grin and shakes her head.

"I should have known that food would be the deciding factor."

I nod happily and turn back to my rockin' Lucky Charms.

"Hey, your kissing abilities contributed greatly."

She blushes again and returns to her Raisin Bran. What normal sixteen year-old eats Raisin Bran? Without sugar? It should be illegal. And I would know about illegal.

"So, what are we doing today?"

I shrug and turn to her, talking around a mouthful of cereal.

"We can always go back to bed."

I waggle my eyebrows suggestively and she turns and even redder shade of… red. Wow. That was deep. Maybe I'll start publishing art philosophy books on the redder shades of red. Dumb ass.

"You're having way too much fun with this, you know?"

I grin. Damn right I am.

--

A few days have passed, and Carly's getting more and more comfortable with us.

Okay, it's me who's been getting comfortable with the idea. Carly's been fine with it from day one – which isn't all that surprising, considering she's known she's liked me longer than I've know I liked her. Like months longer.

Now don't get me wrong. I like Carly. A lot. It's just, I didn't realize I did. This just came out of left field. No. It's more like I was having a picnic on the 50-yard line of the Seahawks stadium, and I suddenly got beaned by a basketball. I mean, you look around and go 'Where the fuck did that come from?'

Right now, we're sitting on the couch in her living room, watching TV. She's sitting up with her legs propped on the coffee table and I'm sprawled across the couch with my head in her lap. It's comfy. So, so comfy.

The door opens and in walks the techno-nerd. Doesn't anyone knock anymore? It's a lost art form, I swear. Like pyramid building and letter writing. Or kick the can.

"Hey, you guys ready for practice?"

I roll my head away from the TV and glare at the miniature monstrosity.

"Dude, I'm comfy. Go away and die."

Carly chokes back a laugh and pinches my ass in retaliation. And it's really not all that unpleasant, just unexpected. Therefore, I leap off the couch in shock, hit the coffee table and land face down on the floor between the couch and the table.

Ow. No, ow isn't enough. Fucking ow. Fucking murderous holy hell and habaneras ow. There we go.

"I thought you were on my side."

My words are a little muffled, because talking into carpet can do that, but I think she understood me. That is, if she could hear me over her and the dweeb's laughter.

I roll onto my side and rest my back against the couch. Carly stands and steps over me before crouching down. Her face is only a few inches from mine. I like this view.

"Are you okay?"

I glare at her. She giggles.

"If you're giving me a death glare, then you're fine. Now come on, let's go practice."

She holds out a hand for me to grab. I shake my head stubbornly.

"Nuh-uh. Comfy."

And I am. Seriously. Just like that.

Trust me, having to sleep in a cardboard box in an alley in Seattle in the middle of winter for a month teaches you how to be comfortable anywhere.

"I'll give you a present."

My eyes dart to hers. Holy shit. She's flirting with me in front of Freddie. Maybe it'll give him a heart attack. I can hope. If he realizes what's going on. Which he probably won't.

"Is it ham?"

She grins and shakes her head, still smiling.

"Better than ham."

My eyes widen. Better than ham? She's kind of full of herself.

"Is it a whole pig?"

She laughs and swats me on the shoulder.

"Get up or you'll never know."

I'm on my feet in an instant.

"Where's my pig?"

She cocks her head to the side and looks at me in mock confusion.

"What pig?"

My mouth drops. She runs.

I chase her upstairs. I hear Fredward mutter intelligently behind us.

"Huh?"

I finally catch her and pin her against the wall just inside the studio. Her eyes are sparkling and her skin is all flushed from the exertion. She is so fucking sexy right now.

I smash my lips against hers. Her arms snake around my neck. One of my hands is around her waist. The other grabs her ass and pulls her tightly into me. She gasps at the contact.

So fucking sexy.

We hear footsteps approaching and we spring apart. Freddie "Fucker Ball Suckerman" Benson appears in the doorway.

"Alright, so what're we doing for the show?"

I roll my eyes and go flop on one of the beanbags. Carly joins me a second later. On the same beanbag. Awesome.

"I think I should make out with Carly."

Carly chokes. Freddie's eyes look like they're going to pop out. Which would be equal parts hilarious and disgusting. I could deal with it though. I'd focus on the comedic spirit of the moment.

Carly smacks me on the arm but doesn't climb off my lap.

"Sam!"

I look at her, wounded.

"Come on, cupcake! The sight of you making out with some girl – namely moi – and therefore defeating all of Fredward's diabolical plans for you just might make his head explode. And I'm nothing if not committed to the cause of seeing the nerd's head explode."

She's laughing hysterically now. Freddie has nothing to say. He's just gaping like a fish. What an awesome day.

--

"Hey, what's today?"

Carly looks at me strangely. We're on our way out the door for school.

"Thursday, why?"

Why do people do that? Seriously, most of us know the _day_.

"What's the date?"

Comprehension dawns. There you go camper. Here's a gold star.

"It's the first. Why?"

Great. Just what I thought. We climb on the elevator and I spin my bag around so I can dig in the front pocket. Good. I've got my money.

"I've got some things I need to take care of. I'll see you at school. Probably around lunch."

She looks at me like she can't believe me.

"What are you going to do?"

Carly thinks I'm going to steal something. I can't blame her. I might. I try to grin but it doesn't really work.

"I need to pay rent, bills and go to the store."

She has the look of someone who just made a 'Your Momma' joke only to find out the victim's mom was dead.

She doesn't say anything the rest of the ride down, and I can't think of anything to break the suddenly uncomfortable silence. As the elevator slows and we reach the lobby, she leans over and gives me a healthy kiss. The kind where you know she's got good lungs because how else could she not be panting afterwards.

"I'll see you at lunch."

I smile sadly and nod as I follow her off the elevator. When we reach the sidewalk, she heads one way and I'm off in the other. We both look back a couple times.

I stop at a convenience store and get a money order for $753.27. I know, random ass number for rent, but my water and trash are included in that. Then, I get ones to cover the gas bill and the phone. We don't have cable. I'm not going to spend my money on something that I'm never even home to use. The only reason we have a phone is for emergencies.

My next destination is the mom & pop grocery store a couple blocks over. Milk, cheese, bread, cookies, crackers, soda, juice, and some lunch meat. Enough for my mom to subsist on for the next couple weeks. Then, it'll be up to someone else to make sure she's okay. Fuck.

I get home about an hour and a half after I left Carly. I stop by the super's place and drop the money order for rent into the slot in his door. Then, I haul myself and the groceries up seven flights of stairs. This is where all the food I eat goes. It's really not some genetic miracle that I'm this thin when I eat so much. When I reach my door, I drag my keys out of my pocket and unlock the deadbolt. The lock on the knob hasn't worked for about three years. I really need to get that fixed soon.

I push open the door and sigh at the sound of empty beer cans rattling on the ground behind it. I shut the door and look around at the mess. Sometimes I wonder why she even cares enough to stay alive.

I carry the food into the kitchen and put it all away. I pull out a trash bag from under the sink and empty out the spoiled stuff from the fridge. Milk, juice, takeout food. I then proceed to clean off the counters. Beer cans, beer bottles, wine coolers, Tequila bottles, Jack Daniels, bread.

It's been a few days since I've been home, so things are a little worse than usual. I set the trash bags by the door as I fill them. There're seven by the time I'm done. She probably had someone over then. I usually only fill three.

Dishes next. I walk around, grabbing plates with half-eaten sandwiches, glasses of forgotten soda and juice, and the random fork or spoon on the ground. It takes me another half hour to finish up the dishes and by the time I'm done cleaning, lunch is already over at school. Carly's probably freaking out. It's times like this that I wish I could afford a cell phone.

Pulling the other money orders and the bills from my backpack, I sit at the couch and spread them over the coffee table. I quickly fill out all the papers, seal the envelopes, put on the stamps and put them back in my bag. I'll drop them off in the mailbox on my way out.

I hear sounds from my mom's room and figure she's awake. Trust me, it's always an iffy proposition. I walk back to her room and push open the door. There's some guy on top of her, fucking her. Well, this is new. No, no it's not. I lean against the doorjamb and shake my head.

"Hey mom, I need to get to school. There's food in the fridge okay?"

The man springs off my mom at the sound of my voice. Retard. My mom just looks at me, confused. Her eyes are glassed over. Great, she's probably stoned on top of being drunk. Mother of the Year, right here folks.

"Sam? What're you doing here?"

I shake my head again and roll my eyes.

"I live here. Well, I'm supposed to, at least. This guy better not eat all my food or I'll kick his ass."

Random Guy pokes his head over the side of the bed, where he fell.

"Who the fuck are you to tell me what to do?"

Great. Another winner.

"Whatever dude. Do it and die. I'll be home around six, mom."

I close the door behind me. I collect the trash bags and before I'm even out the door, I can hear them going at it again. And people wonder why I never want to come home.

--

My stomach's grumbling violently by the time I get to Carly's apartment. The school day's almost over, so I figured what was the point? I pick the lock, head inside and dump my backpack on the ground. Spencer is in the living room, working on his latest sculpture. It sort of looks like the mutated child of the Pillsbury Doughboy and a llama.

He's frozen, staring at me in confusion as I walk past him and into the kitchen. I pull open the fridge and stick my head in.

"Where's the ham?"

I'm grabbing out all the makings of a good ham sandwich. Mayonnaise, mustard, cheese, pepperoni, jalapenos, and lettuce.

"Um… in the drawer. Why aren't you at school?"

I grab the ham out and close the fridge, then turn to him and shrug.

"I had to do a few things, couldn't make it."

I hear him sigh and I resolutely focus on making my sandwich. He sidles up next to me and hops onto the counter.

"Sam, when you get to court, they're going to be looking at things like this. It doesn't look too good when you just skip school because you've got better things to do."

I roll my eyes but don't look at him.

"I didn't have _better_ things to do. I had _other_ things to do."

He shakes his head, but I'm saved from concerned Spence by the door opening and Carly walking in. She spots me and sprints across the apartment, glomping me for all she's worth. Spencer slides off his counter and shakes his head as he goes back to his sculpture.

"I thought you were going to be there for lunch!"

I hold up my sandwich, as if that will explain everything. And really, it should.

"I got held up. Sorry."

She steps back and crosses her arms.

"By what?"

Okay, snooty Carly? Definitely not cute.

"Fuck it. It's no big deal. I'm here now and I'm alright."

Her face falls.

"Oh. Okay."

Great. Now she feels like crap. Good job again, Sam! Two thumbs up and a bucket of chicken for you.

"Carly, come on. I'm sorry. I just had things to do at home. Hey, you want to grab some smoothies? It'll make you feel better. My treat."

She looks at me warily.

"Since when do you treat?"

I grin and take a step closer to her. I whisper so Spencer can't hear.

"What? I'm not allowed to buy my girlfriend a smoothie?"

Carly blushes but smiles goofily.

"I don't think there's any rule against it."

There's a loud bang, followed by the sound of something very large falling over and then a sort of crunching sound. The sounds are coming from the living room. Where Spencer is.

Shit.

I look over at him as Carly turns slowly to do the same. He's trapped under his Pillsbury llama, and it looks awfully close to catching on fire. Don't ask me why, it just has that 'Spencer's involved so I should light on fire' kind of vibe to it.

We rush over and extract him from under the surprisingly heavy sculpture. He stands, dusts himself off, and looks up at us. He sets one hand on each of our shoulders, gasping for air.

"Thank you."

The sculpture bursts into flame. He points at us.

"Don't move."

He runs into the kitchen, fills up a bucket of water and throws it on his sculpture. It sizzles and the smell of burnt marshmallows fills the apartment.

"Alright. What am I freaking out about, again?"

I try not to laugh, but I just can't hold it in.

"I have no idea, but we were going to get smoothies."

He looks at us blankly.

"Why?"

I shrug. Carly answers.

"Because they taste good?"

He nods apparently satisfied with her answer.

"Alright. Don't do anything I wouldn't. And don't do some things I would. You know what? Just get smoothies. That'll solve everything."

I grin and salute him.

"You got it Spence, Scout's Honor."

He cocks his head to the side in the exact same way Carly does when she's deciding if she's going to believe me.

"You were never a Scout. Were you?"

I shrug.

"For about a week. I got kicked out for eating all the cookies."

Carly laughs and I look over at her and wink.

"Alright have fun you two."

We nod and wave goodbye as he returns to his marshmallow statue.

--

Whoever thought of smoothies should be given a medal. We're on our way back from the Groovy Smoothie and I stop outside Carly's door. I look back at Fredward's door and sigh.

"Hey Carls, I need to talk to Freddie for a minute."

She looks at me curiously but nods. Then she stands there. I roll my eyes.

"Alone."

She raises an eyebrow, studying me for a moment.

"Would this talking involve bodily harm?"

I chuckle and shake my head.

"Not unless he provokes it."

She sighs and heads into her apartment. I turn and knock on the Benson's door.

A minute passes before the door opens. Mrs. Benson stands there, looking down her nose at me.

"Samantha."

I raise an eyebrow. This woman has hated me since the first time I got arrested. Before that, she always gave me the benefit of the doubt because I was Freddie's friend.

"Hi Mrs. Benson. Is Freddie here?"

Before she can answer, Freddie is there, pushing past her, wearing his jacket.

"Hey Sam, ready to go?"

I look at him confused, but quickly catch on and play along.

"Yep. Let's do the rockin' and the rollin'."

We quickly head off down the hall and jump on the elevator, despite the calls from his mother to stop. When the door closes I turn to him and smirk.

"That bad?"

He groans and slumps against the side of the elevator.

"She's been driving me crazy. I couldn't take any more. So, what's up?"

I look at the ground and scuff my toe.

"I was wondering if your offer is still open. You know, about any help I need."

He smiles slightly and nods.

"Of course it is. There was never an expiration date."

I grin and look at him from under my eyelashes.

"You are such a dork."

He straightens up and smiles proudly. I laugh.

Then, I take a deep breath. Carly knows everything about my home life. Freddie doesn't. This isn't going to be easy for me.

The elevator dings and we climb off. I lead him out to the street and turn for my apartment.

"Hey, can I borrow your phone?"

He nods and pulls it out. I dial Carly's number.

"_Hey Freddie. You know Sam's looking for you?"_

I grin and shake my head at the amusement in her voice.

"Well, Sam found him. And she's taking him over to her place."

She's silent for a second before she responds, a little weakly.

"_Are you sure?"_

I sigh and look over at him. He's looking at me as if I've grown a third head. Or a second one. Yeah, that'd have to come first, huh?

"Yeah, Carls. He's gonna look after my mom for me."

She doesn't say anything for a while and I pull the phone from my ear to make sure she hasn't hung up. She hasn't.

"_Why didn't you ask me?"_

I shrug, even though I know she can't see it.

"Well, I just assumed you'd help. Tweedle-Dumb Ass here doesn't even know where I live, so I'm getting that out of the way."

She breathes out a sigh of relief.

"_Oh, okay. Sorry, God I'm already acting like the insecure girlfirend. I'll see you when you get home."_

I smile. I love it when she says home, like I'm included in her sense of 'home.'

"See you in a bit, cupcake."

I hang up and hand the phone back to Freddie as we reach the convenience store. I tell him this is the cheapest place for money orders. Then I point out the grocer's and tell him what he needs to buy from there.

"And don't buy anything extra, it'll just go to waste."

He nods and from there, we head to my apartment. We have to stop on three different landings and by the time we reach my door, he's huffing like he just finished a marathon.

I'm not even breathing hard.

"Hey, look at it this way. It'll get you into shape, if nothing else."

He laughs weakly as I pull out the keys and unlock the door.

I open it and shake my head in amazement. The place is already littered with beer bottles again. Freddie follows me in and looks around in wonder. He's probably only seen places this shitty on TV.

"Where's your room?"

I grin and point to the sofa.

"Right there, bucko."

He doesn't say anything else. Smart man.

I explain that he'll need to clean, do the dishes and take out the trash.

"'Cause my mom sure as fuck won't."

Just then, the door to her room opens and out stumbles Random Guy.

"The fuck are you doing here?"

I roll my eyes and open the fridge. All the lunch meat is gone. I slam the door and turn back to the stupid fuck.

"I told you not to eat all my food."

He grabs a beer and leans against the counter.

"What're you going to do about it?"

I take a deep breath. I grab the beer out of his hand – I don't want to have to clean it up – and punch him solid in the balls. I hear Freddie groan. Random Guy falls to the ground. I grab him by the back of his dirty wife beater and drag him out into the hall. I find his shoes in the living room and drop them on his head. Then, I shut the door and lock the deadbolt.

"Don't worry, I won't make you deal with my mom's one-night stands."

He nods, wide-eyed and wary. My mom stumbles out of her room and asks what I did to Random Guy. Then, she tries to hit on Freddie. It'd be funny if it wasn't so sad.

Fox should make show out of the shit that happens to me. They'd name it _When Life Attacks_.

--


	4. Chapter Four: I'm In

**Chapter Four  
**_I'm In_

It's Sunday. I have ten days of freedom left. The walls are starting to close in. Not really, but still. I'm starting to realize how little time I actually have left. And it sucks.

"Do you think we should tell Freddie?"

Carly and I are on her couch, watching TV. My head is by her knees and her head is by my knees. Guess which one of us is upside-down? I look at her curiously. She stares resolutely at the TV screen.

"About what?"

She takes my hand and runs her thumb slowly over my knuckles. I love it when she does that. It just… relaxes me.

"About us."

Oh fuck yeah! Christmas just came early.

"Freddie! Carly said she'd go out with you!"

I receive a smack in the arm for my troubles, but I just grin and watch the door. Three… two…

The door slams open and Freddie's standing there, a towel wrapped around his waist and water dripping everywhere. Ew. I cover my eyes and do a full body shiver.

"Are you serious?"

Dude is _way_ too excited.

I can feel Carly glaring at me as I start laughing. She tries to let him down softly.

"No, Freddie. Um, but if you'd like to go get dressed, Sam and I need to talk to you."

I peek between my fingers and see the little nerd deflate and I feel kind of bad. It passes.

"Yeah, so hurry up. Your near-nakedness is giving me a migraine and sending the creepy vibes in the room over the dancing mime point."

He shuffles off to his place, shutting the door behind him with a soft click.

"You know, considering what we're going to tell him, that was really mean."

She's right. Shit. Now I do feel bad. The feeling passes again. It's good to be me.

We sit in silence for a few minutes, awaiting the nerd-o-tron's return. She starts absently stroking my knuckles again.

The door opens and Freddie reenters the apartment. He trudges to the couch, glares at me, then take the open spot next to me.

"So, what's up?"

Carly's let go of my hand, and I'm already missing the contact.

"Um, well… Freddie, I… we…"

I roll my eyes at her and shake my head. At this rate, we'll be thirty before she gets it out.

"Dude, you know the other day when I said I should make out with Carly?"

He nods slowly, obviously unaware where this was going. Carly leans her head back and stares at the ceiling. I hear her sigh.

"After you left, we decided to try it out. And it was _awesome_."

He stares at me, obviously not believing a word I'm saying.

"Okay, seriously? What did you really want to talk to me about?"

I grin. Not an 'I'm happy and I should let the world know' grin. No, this was an 'I'm about to crush all your hopes and dreams' kind of grin.

"Okay, seriously? That wasn't a joke."

His face falls into a serious mask. What is with the seriouses? Is that even a word? I really need a thesaurus. Heh. That sounds like a dinosaur. Thesaurus Rex. Arrgh. Wait, pirates go 'Arrgh.' Dinosaur pirates! Awesome!

"Carly?"

He sounds like he's about to cry. Pansy. Wussy, flower-wallpaper-loving pansy.

"Yeah?"

Wow, Carly playing dumb? Mark the day.

"Is it true?"

Okay, he's acting like she cheated on him or something. Get over it, woman! Wait. I'm a woman. That would be an insult to me. Hmm… Get over it… dog? Gerbil? Worm? Platypus! There we go. Get over it Platypus! No, never mind. Platypuses are awesome. I think I'll go with hamster then. I got bit by a hamster once. Little bastard.

"Yeah, Freddie. Yeah. Me and Sam are… well…"

Is it really that hard to say? I grab her hand and entwine our fingers, squeezing lightly. She smiles down at me appreciatively.

"We're dating."

Silence reigns. Like a king. Like the King of Pop. Heh. Michael Jackson is a dirty old man. I start singing _Beat It_ in my head, bobbing said appendage lightly. After a minute, I notice Carly and Freddie staring at me strangely.

"What?"

Carly shakes her head and smiles at me.

"Michael Jackson?"

I grin and nod. She knows me so well.

Freddie gets up and shakes his head.

"Um, I'm gonna go and… digest. This."

I open my mouth, but he cuts me off as he heads for the door.

"Not a word Sam. I really don't like you right now."

My mouth shuts slowly as he walks out. That really hurt. _Really _hurt.

Carly and I stare at the door for a few minutes. I roll off the couch and stand up, heading for the door.

"I need some air. I'll be right back."

She doesn't reply as I walk out the door.

--

I open the door to the roof and take a deep breath. And it would have been a nice, clean and refreshing breath of air if there hadn't been a cloud of cigarette smoke blowing through it. I cough frantically and look around for the perpetrator.

"Freddie!?"

He jumps and drops his cigarette. He turns and glares at me as he leans down to pick up the cancer stick. He then proceeds to ignore me and take another drag as he stares off the edge of the building.

I march over to him and plant myself at his side, staring at his profile. He doesn't say anything. Neither do I.

As I watch him, I start noticing things. He has bags under his eyes and he looks exhausted. His eyes are a little bloodshot and there's just something _off_ about him.

"Are you okay?"

He glances at me from the corner of his eye and smirks. And it's not the smirk that Freddie usually has. It's bitter and _wrong_.

"No, not really."

And I criticize him for asking stupid questions.

"Is it…"

I gesture to myself and the general direction where I think Carly is. He shakes his head and flicks the ash off his cigarette. And it's not like a new smoker flick either, all clumsy and careful not to burn their fingers. He flicked it absently, like he'd done it a million times before.

"No. That's just the icing on the cake."

I nod and move to sit on the ledge facing him.

"So tell me about the cake."

He sighs and puts his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe. He drops the used up roll of tobacco into an empty Coke can and pulls out another one. He retrieves a Zippo from his jacket pocket and lights up, taking a deep drag. It's actually very fascinating. Especially because this is _Freddie_.

"I've just got a lot of stress right now. Of course, compared to what you've got coming, what I'm dealing with seems stupid to complain about."

I grin and shake my head.

"_Please_, no one's problems can measure up to mine. But I still want to know."

He shrugs and takes another drag.

"This is going to sound really conceited."

I nod, but don't say anything. I know, points for me for sensitivity!

"I'm smart. Really smart."

I nod, and I think I'm going to get a crick in my neck from all the nodding.

"You know I'm graduating this summer?"

My jaw drops. He who what the fuck?

"No. Dude, you're sixteen. You can't graduate. You… what?"

He's pulling my leg. I know he is. He can't be…

"I'm going to be starting at MIT in the fall. I got a full ride."

He's serious. Holy shit.

"How?"

He shrugs.

"I did all kinds of classes and tests and stuff so I could graduate. My mom's been pushing me and pushing me and I just can't… get ahead. I feel like I'm drowning half the time."

He takes another drag of his cigarette and as I watch him, I start to think about everything that I've ignored about him. How he's rarely around anymore, and how he seems crushed whenever something comes up that interferes with iCarly. The way he decided to take summer classes and how he's only in one of my classes – and an elective class at that.

"The show is really all the relief I've had over the past couple years. Getting away from my mom and her psychosis is the biggest appeal of going to Massachusetts. I'm not going to back out of helping your mom or anything, don't get me wrong. But, come this fall, I won't even be here _to_ help. And I'm really sorry for that, Sam. I feel horrible about it."

I won't cry. I won't. And the strange thing is, it's really a struggle not to.

"So, what's with death sticks?"

He grins and holds up his half-finished cigarette, eyeing it wryly.

"Last summer, after class one day, I was just about ready to rip my hair out. A couple other kids in class lit up a soon as we were off school property, and I guess I looked pretty bad off so they offered me one. I thought about it for a second and then took it. I lit up and got buzzed like you wouldn't believe. And it made me feel better. It made me relax. And that feeling of not being stressed, that got me hooked instantly."

I nod, but I don't smile. This is Fredward Benson. Mr. Astronomically Smart Guy with a million and one safety rules guiding his life, telling me that he needed a _drug_ to make him feel better. I guess everyone has their breaking point. Everyone has their poison.

"How have been hiding it from your mom?"

He shrugs.

"I haven't really. I almost _want _her to find out. But whatever. The only thing that I'm going to miss about this city is you and Carly. And now that you and Carly are _you and Carly_… How did that happen, anyway?"

He outs his cigarette out on the bottom of his shoe again, drops it in the can and takes the seat beside me. I shrug and grin goofily.

"I dunno. It just sort of… She kissed me, half-asleep and I, well… I liked it. Kind of a shock to the system. You know we weren't trying to hurt you, right?"

He grins, and I feel better. It's the old Fredward grin.

"I know that. It's just a case of one thing after the other."

I nod and we sit there for a while. He lights up another cigarette.

The door to the roof opens again and we spot Carly. She spots his cigarette and her face is one of complete and utter shock.

"Freddie!"

Both of us start laughing, and I find myself grateful for having the nerd as a friend for probably the first time ever.

--

"Ms. Puckett."

I spin around in the crowded hallway, to the annoyance and aggravation of the surrounding students. Fuck them.

"Principal Franklin. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

He doesn't grin, which means that it's nothing good. Shit fuck damn.

"My office, please."

With a sigh, I slump my shoulders and trudge after him.

We arrive in his office quickly, due to the fact that no one wants to get in the principal's way and they tend to part like a comb over when they see him coming. Dinks.

He walks in and I follow. Then, I see who's waiting for me and groan.

"Hello Samantha."

It's Detective fucking Mccown. Fuck all. He's perched on the edge of Mr. Franklin's desk, grinning at me. I slump into the visitor's chair and glare at him.

"What do you want, Doug?"

Mr. Franklin closes the door and takes his seat behind the desk. I glare at him. He really should have let me know this was coming. I mean, the guy's supposed to like me. Right? Right? Right.

"It's Matt, and I thought you'd like to know that we picked up Jerome Walters a few days ago."

I look at him blankly.

"And I care why?"

He grins and crosses his arms. Cocky bastard.

"You care because he's also known as Thrift. And I'm pretty sure he used to be your boss."

Oh. Well fuck me with a spoon.

"We have plenty on him, but a credible witness can go a long way here."

Okay. Now I get it.

"I'm sorry, Detective. I don't know what you're talking about."

I get up to leave.

"You're looking at four years in prison, Sam. That's two years in juvie and another two in a state pen, and that's only if you're charged as a minor. You help us, I can get that dropped to six months. Max."

I sit my ass right back down.

I stare at him. He stares back.

"Let me think about it."

He nods and reaches into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet. He pulls a business card out and offers it to me. I take it warily.

"Call me and let me know what you decide. Either way. This offer expires when you arrive in court."

I nod and climb to my feet, stuffing the card in my pocket. I walk out of the office without another word.

--

I'm standing in Carly's room, wearing just my underwear. On her bed is the dress she got me for court. I've been staring at it for an hour and a half.

Carly's not home yet. I left school right after my meeting with Principal Franklin and Detective Mccown. Spencer gave me a 'look' when I walked into the apartment, but didn't say anything. I don't know if I could have responded if he had said anything.

There's a soft knock on the door before it creaks open slowly.

"Sam?"

It's Carly. I should be embarrassed that I'm practically naked, but I'm too preoccupied to really care.

I hear the door shut behind her and then she's there, with her arms around my waist and her cheek resting between my shoulder blades.

"What happened?"

I swallow the lump in my throat.

"Can you drive me to Walla Walla?"

She shifts slightly, and I can tell she's surprised by the question.

"Why?"

I shrug.

"I had a meeting with Principal Franklin today. And Detective Mccown."

She knows who Mccown is.

"Oh. What did he have to say?"

I shrug again.

"They picked up the guy I work for. Mccown wants me to testify against him. Said he'd cut me a deal to get a reduced sentence if I did."

I feel her nod against my back.

"So why are we going to Walla Walla?"

I sigh and turn around in her arms, lacing my own around her neck.

"I told him I'd have to think about it. I mean, I'm a Puckett, you know? We're a family of crime, and you never rat on anyone. That's what I've always been told. So this is really hard for me."

She nods.

"What's in Walla Walla, Sam?"

I've been avoiding this, and she knows it.

"I need to visit my dad."

Her eyes widen a fraction.

"Oh."

Yeah. Oh.

--

It's around one in the afternoon a few days later. Apparently, you need to make an appointment for a visit 24 hours in advance. Then, you have to show up at a specific time, with specific things and so on so forth. And, on top of that, it's a four hour drive to Walla Walla from Seattle.

It's a good thing I have Carly, otherwise I probably would have driven here alone and had them laugh at me. She took care of everything I needed, including having Spencer come with me. I'm a minor, so I need an approved adult present.

I'm waiting in an empty room. Spence and a guard are in here too, but it's really, really empty. I'm wearing the dress, and I had Carly do up my makeup. I feel weird.

A door in the side of the room opens and a large man is led through wearing hand and ankle cuffs.

He sits across the table from me and they chain him to the floor.

I stare at him and he stares back. He's a big guy, probably 6'6", maybe even 6'8", and just ripped. He could have been an NFL lineman. He's got a blond goatee, short-cropped hair, and several scars across his face. He has a dragon tattoo poking out of the collar of his shirt. He is one scary dude.

Then, his face blossoms into a brilliant smile and he's just Daddy. And God, I've missed him.

"Sammy girl. How're you?"

I start tearing up at the question, asked in his deep, booming voice with his Texas accent, and all I want to do is hug him. I want him to wrap his big-ass gorilla arms around me and protect me like he did when I was a little girl. But I can't and he can't. He's in max security and all visits are strictly no-contact. That's what they told me.

So I sit there, staring at him through my blurry vision and I cry and cry.

I hear him sniffle too, so I don't feel as bad. Then, I hear Spencer sniffle, and I laugh. I turn to him and wipe my eyes.

"Dude, you need a minute?"

He shakes his head and waves me off, smiling. I turn back to my dad and grin sadly.

"I'm sorry."

He nods, knowing instantly what I'm apologizing for.

"Me too. I'm glad you're here though. You look beautiful and all grown up."

I am too, I want to say, but my throat's closed up again. Damn thing.

After a minute, I cough the frog out of my throat.

"Daddy, I need your help."

He looks at me curiously, but nods.

"I uh… I'm going to jail."

His face falls and I can feel all the disappointment in his face weighing down on me.

"So, what do you need? Tips on how to survive? What're you going in for?"

I shrug and start doodling on the table with my finger.

"Grand Theft Auto. And I don't need tips. I need advice."

He sighs deeply and leans back in his chair, slouching.

"About?"

Well, this is it.

"There's this cop, Detective Mccown. They picked up the guy I was working for, and he says that if I testify against him, he'll get me a reduced sentence. But, I mean everyone has always told me that you just don't do that. You don't talk, you don't rat. But… I've got something now. Something that I want and I can't be locked up and have it. And I just… What do I do, Daddy?"

I look up at him again, and I'm surprised to see him smiling softly. He leans forward again, and I can see the tears swimming behind his blue eyes.

"Sammy girl, if you'd have asked me this same question ten years ago, I'd have told you to keep your mouth shut. Because that's what I believed. But now? You do whatever it takes to spend as little time in here as you can."

My eyes widen in shock. This is completely and utterly _not_ what I was expecting to hear.

"You give this detective whatever he wants. And when you do your time, when you get back out there, you do what no other Puckett has. You be good. Make something of yourself. Not for me. Not even for you, although that's what everyone will tell you. You do it because you've got someone on the outside. Someone who needs you, and someone you can't bear to let down."

I'm crying again, because even if I haven't seen him in five years, even if I don't talk to him or look like him or anything, we're so much alike it's obvious he's my dad.

I don't think I've cried so much in my entire life. I feel like such a wuss.

"Okay Daddy."

He nods, satisfied. Then, he leans back in his chair and a pained look crossed his face again.

"So, how's your mother?"

I don't care. I don't want to tell him. He loves her so much. Too much, in my opinion. She doesn't deserve him. She never has.

"Same as always."

--

It's late that night, and Carly's asleep on the bed next to me. She's sprawled a little and her arms are trying to grasp where I should be. She makes do with my pillow and pulls it tightly to her, smiling happily. I'm sitting on the edge of the bed, staring at Detective Mccown's card. I've been trying to work up the courage to call him since I got back at seven. I told Carly everything that happened, and she smiled and cried with me. It was therapeutic.

I think I might love her. I really do.

And that, right there, is what leads me to pick up the phone and dial.

"_Mccown_."

I take a deep breath.

"Hey Doug, its Sam. I'm in."

--


	5. Chapter Five: All I Could Ask For

**Chapter Five  
**_All I Could Ask For_

****WARNING**  
**The following chapter contains situations of a mature and sexual nature. Do not proceed unless you are of legal age to read such material in your area. Reader discretion is advised.

********

Drunk monkeys are awesome. So are drunken elephants, but drunk monkeys… Heh. It's even fun to say. Drunk monkey. Heh.

"So, how does this work?"

Carly's voice brings me back from the land of drunk monkeys… heh… and I look questioningly at the man seated on Carly's couch. He's some DA that Mccown brought over to get my disposition. I told them I wasn't coming into the police station to do this, because I didn't want word getting back to Thrift about it.

Carly's standing next to me, because, come on, like I'd do this without her. I don't think I could. I wouldn't be able to remember _why _I was doing it.

"We'll be videotaping Ms. Puckett's interview. We'll review it and, if it's deemed that what she has to say will have an impact on the case, then she'll be called as a witness."

I narrow my eyes. Something doesn't smell right.

"But, if you don't need me, what'll happen to my sentence?"

The man grins and I scowl. I hate it when lawyers grin. It makes them look even more shark-like.

"Before we record the interview, we'll go over all the paperwork, so that you get your reduced sentence if we deem that you're useful. If not…"

My lip curls. Fucking shark.

"I rot for four years."

He shrugs and nods.

"Yeah, but I should be able to tell you after we're done whether we're going to be using you."

I roll my eyes and sit down next to him on the couch and spend the next hour going over paperwork. He gives me several somethings that I'll need my mom to sign. Which just means I'll have to forge her signature, like always. I doubt anyone even knows what my mom's signature looks like.

Then, I sit on the couch and the interview starts.

I tell them about how I met Thrift. How he taught me how to steal cars.

I tell them about the time he shot me in the leg just to see if I could take it. And then laughed when I started to cry.

I tell them about the shop, and how many cars they process a week. How many people he's got working for him.

I tell them about the time he stabbed me in the back, three times, with a rusty piece of scrap metal, and then made me walk the five miles to the hospital. Just because.

I tell them about first guy I saw him kill. Then the second. And the third.

I watch Carly's face change from pensive concern to shock to anger to fear. She's crying fifteen minutes into it. I talk for more than two hours.

When we're done, the DA turns off the camera and nods at me.

"We'll be seeing you in court, Ms. Puckett."

I nod. There's way too much nodding. Why do people nod so much? I'm just going to start giving people thumbs up from now on.

The DA packs up and Detective Mccown walks over to me. He's been lingering in the kitchen the whole time.

"You alright, Samantha?"

I shrug, but my eyes are on Carly. She's staring back at me, and she's not crying anymore. She looks like she wants to. She's looking at me like she doesn't know who I am, and that… _hurts_. Physically.

He doesn't say anything else, and he and the DA head out of her apartment with a promise to be in touch. The door closes with a solid click, and me and Carly continue to stare at each other. Finally I sigh and look away.

"Carly…"

Then she's on me, hugging me so hard that I'm having trouble breathing, and she's sobbing in my ear.

"Oh my God, Sam… Why… why would you do that? Why? Oh my God. Why didn't you… why didn't you tell me?"

And I hang on. I hold her so tight that it hurts. And I feel myself starting to cry, and it's not like she can pretend that I'm not, because she is too, and fuck!

"I don't know how else to be."

She pulls back from me then, and stares me in the eye, deathly serious. I don't think I've ever seen her like this. I know I never want to see her like this again.

"I need you to be the Sam that I see every day. I need you, Sam. And I can't… I _won't_ lose you because of something like that. I refuse to lose you."

I grin, and can't stop myself.

"You refuse to lose, huh? You sound like a coach or something. Carly the football coach."

She grins in return and smacks me in the shoulder. Then she leans in and kisses me. She pushes me back onto the couch until I'm laying on it and she's laying on me. I love it when she kisses me. I love kissing her.

"I love you."

She's not kissing me anymore. Did I? No…

I open my eyes slowly and she's looking at me strangely. Her head is cocked to the side and her eyes are crinkled together a little. Her voice is a little breathy as she whispers.

"What?"

I did. Fuck! Fuck me. Fuck fuck fuckedy fuck fuck fuck!

I close my eyes and drop my head back against the cushion with a sigh. I bring a hand to my face and pinch the bridge of my nose.

"Nothing. Never mind. I –"

The urgency in her voice snaps my eyes open.

"No! Sam, what did you say?"

I stare into her eyes, and she looks wary and excited. Could she…

I force the words past the three thousand pound rhinoceros humping the frog in my throat.

"I love you."

The smile that blossoms takes my breath away.

"Good. I love you too."

I'm stunned. Like police taser stunned. _Don't tase me, bro! __Don't tase me!_ Dumb ass. I laughed for a week. I mean really, who –

"Sam, focus."

I grin sheepishly at Carly. She's smiling at me with one eyebrow raised.

"Sorry. So, you really do?"

She rolls her eyes and keeps on grinning.

"Yes, though sometimes I question the sanity of it."

I pout. I have a very cute pouty face. Carly is powerless to resist it.

"Are you saying I'm crazy?"

She smiles brightly and nods enthusiastically. So much for my pouty face.

She is so dead. I start tickling her relentlessly. She shrieks and tries to scramble out of my grasp. After a moment of struggling, she sends us toppling over the side of the couch. We land with a light thud.

"You okay?"

Carly's breathing hard but she smiles.

"Absolutely."

She wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me down into a very, _very_ nice kiss of the French variety. Then, the door opens. We spring apart, which is more difficult than you'd think when you're laying on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. So, we manage a squawking thumping thing and I hit the table and fall back on top of her. I look up, expecting to see a horrified and confused Spencer.

Instead, there is one highly amused Fredward Benson closing the door behind him. He grins and walks over to us, then jumps over me and Carly to land smoothly on the couch. He grabs the remote and turns on the TV, before flipping through the channels.

"Please, don't stop on my account."

I punch him in the leg – for which I receive a very satisfying expletive from the nerd – before following his advice and picking up where we left off, much to Carly's amusement. And our mutual enjoyment.

--

It's Monday. The 12th of April. I have two days left. I would like to say I woke up in Carly's arms, feeling all safe and secure. But I didn't.

I slept at home last night. Well, slept wouldn't be the appropriate word. Cleaned, cooked, and tried to spend at least a little time with my mom would be more along the lines. She doesn't exactly have a normal sleeping schedule, so she kept me up all night, completely oblivious to the fact that I had school in the morning. We played Yahtzee. For five hours. I'm not sure if that's awesome or disturbing, so I'm just going to file it under awesturbing. New fake words rock.

So I trudge into my first class – Why am I even here? – with every intention of falling asleep and not moving for the rest of the day. Not even to shuffle to my next class and fall asleep there.

Instead, I walk in and spot Carly sitting on my desk, talking to Freddie. I smile tiredly and walk over, dropping my bag on the ground and sitting on the desk next to Carly. I give a hello nod to the dork before turning to Carly.

"Heya cupcake."

She smiles brightly at me and leans over, kissing me. I'm so used to – and still so enthralled by – it that I don't notice that the room has descended into silence until we break apart. I keep my eyes on Carly. She's suddenly realizing what she did and I can see the blush just burst onto her cheeks. It makes me want to kiss her again. So I do.

Then, I turn an eye the stunned crowd of my classmates.

"What? You've never seen a couple of girls kiss?"

A boy pipes up from across the room.

"Only in porn."

That breaks everyone out of their stupor and causes a high five and a few laughs. I roll my eyes and look back at Carly, who is staring intently at her hands. I nudge her with my shoulder. She looks up at me through her hair.

"Hey, you're pretty cute. Wanna go out?"

She laughs and that does the trick. She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze. Then, the bell rings and she squeaks in alarm before giving me another kiss and bolting out of the room and off to her class. I watch her go, shaking my head and smiling at her antics.

Then, I take my seat, lay my head on my desk, and proceed with my original plan. I manage to stay unconscious until lunch, when Carly comes to get me with an exasperated smile.

--

By lunch, everyone knows. In high school, I've figured that it takes three and a half periods for everyone in the school – including all but the most oblivious of teachers – to learn the newest juicy gossip. If newspapers wanted to figure things out, they'd hire a classroom of sophomores to get it. They'd be unstoppable. Like the Hulk. Or mosquitoes.

And really, I don't mind so much. Carly, though… Well, she's going to have a heart attack if one more person gives us a "knowing" look, or comes up and asks or whatever the hell. But, she's a trooper and is taking it in stride as much as she can.

That's my girl.

I look over at her and grin. We're alone at a small round table. Freddie has a different lunch time than we do, which, considering I've only got a couple days left, just sucks.

"You okay?"

She looks up at me like a deer in headlights.

"Okay? Why wouldn't I be okay? I'm better than okay. I'm _fantabulous_."

Alright. Freaking out Carly? A little worrying. Add to that the fact that she's a horrible liar? We have your classic recipe for 'Sam to the rescue.'

I shrug nonchalantly and glare at a person making their way over to us. He turns on his heel and goes back to his table.

"We just never really talked about coming out, and I'm worried. You seem really freaked out."

She slumps in her seat and starts poking her mashed-potato-like substance with her spork. I think it growled. Fucker. Mashed-potato-like substance is not allowed to growl at _my_ girlfriend. Maybe Freddie's – if he could get one – but not _mine_. I'll show that mashed-potato-like substance.

I stab my spork into her faux potatoes and take a bite. That'll show it what happens when it growls at Carly. I hope the rest of her food took notes. I'm not afraid to teach them a lesson too.

"I was going to eat that, you know."

I grin. She smiles and shakes her head.

"I don't know. I've had a few people who I normally talk to just walk away when they saw me coming. I mean, I was expecting it. But expecting it and having it happen are –"

What!?

"Who?"

Something in my tone must have alerted her that it wasn't just an idle question. It could have been the pure murderous fucking rage pouring out of me, but I digress.

"Sam, it's not a big –"

The fuck it's not.

"Who?"

She sighs and shakes her head.

"Alicia and Jenna."

I'm out of my seat and on my way over to their table before she finishes talking. I hear her climb out of her seat and run after me.

"Sam! Sam, stop!"

Carly's voice alerts the closest target of my rage – Alicia – and she turns to see what the commotion is. When she sees me coming she tries to scramble out of her seat, but I grab the front of her shirt and pull her up before she can so much as push away from the table.

"You got a problem?"

The cafeteria has fallen deathly still. Not even the teachers are moving to intervene.

She shakes her head timidly.

"Then I suggest you apologize to Carly for being such a shitty excuse for a human being."

Alicia glances over my shoulder, where I assume Carly is standing.

"I-I-I'm s-sorry, C-Carly."

I shove her and she lands on the ground.

Then, I turn and look for the other girl, but before I spot her, Carly is in front of me with her arms around my neck, drawing my focus to her. Her voice is calm and soothing.

"Sam. It's okay. Come on. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. I promise. Just let it go."

I take a deep breath and let it out. Then, I repeat. After a moment, I lean forward and set my forehead on hers, staring into her eyes.

"Okay."

She smiles, takes my hand and leads me out of the cafeteria, with people scattering in front of us. From behind us, I hear someone ask.

"Jesus Christ, Alicia, what did you _do?_"

--

We're lying in bed, trying to get comfortable and get some sleep. Carly is behind me, and I'm wrapped up in her arms. I don't know why, but I like this feeling of being wrapped up. Like she's trying to keep me safe.

"Sam?"

I grunt in response. I feel her smile against my neck.

"What are you thinking about?"

Okay, really?

"Sleep."

I feel her laughing silently. Then, she starts kissing my neck. And nibbling my ear. And… oh God, _that_ feels good. I turn my head to her and smirk.

"What are _you_ thinking about?"

She grins shyly, and I can tell she's blushing even in the dark.

"Sleep."

I roll all the way over in her arms so that we're lying nose to nose.

"What _kind _of sleep?"

I waggle my eyebrows, and her smile softens.

"I want to make love to you, Sam."

My heart just stopped like a drunk monkey running headfirst into a brick wall.

My voice is really weak as I respond. Like that rinoceros returned to hump the frog. Just leave it alone already! It's fucking dead!

"What?"

She keeps her eyes on mine and brings her hand up to run her hand over my cheek tenderly.

"We've got one more day together and then I'm going to lose you for six months. I don't want… I don't want to wait. I want you. I love you and I want you, Sam."

I'm tearing up, and my heart starts beating again. Hard and fast and I feel _alive_.

"I love you too, Carly."

I close the miniscule distance between us for a hard, ferocious kiss.

She pushes me back on the bed and straddles my waist. With shaking hands, she grabs the hem of her nightshirt and pulls it over her head. She's sitting there in nothing but a pair of soft pink boyshorts.

I stare at her, and suck in a breath between my teeth. She is perfect. So. Fucking. Perfect.

She leans down and presses herself against me and I moan into her mouth as she kisses me.

I fumble with my own shirt as she tries to help me out of my clothes. We finally get me out of my shirt and pants, leaving my underwear for now. Somewhere in the mess of getting undressed, we've managed to kick all the covers off her bed, which suits me just fine.

She starts kissing her way down my body, starting where my jaw meets my ear. When she reaches my chest, she spends an inordinate amount of time licking and teasing my nipples. And I'm not complaining. Not one… oh fuck, that feels _good_.

I try trailing my fingers over her body, but she keeps playfully slapping my hands away.

Finally, she trails down further, coming to a stop at the waistline of my panties. She hesitates and looks up at me. Like she's asking permission.

"Oh don't stop _now_."

She grins and hooks her fingers into the waistband. She takes her fucking sweet ass time in taking them off. I'm so going to get her back for this.

When she finally flings my underwear to the ground, she leans back and eyes me up and down.

"You're amazing, Sam."

I blush. I can't believe I'm fucking blushing. She climbs back over me and kisses me deeply. Then, I feel something that makes my hips buck and causes me to lean away from her, gasping.

It takes me a second to realize that it's Carly. Touching me. Rubbing me. She… oh _fuck_ yeah. _That_…

"Do _that_ again."

She giggles and reinserts her fingers, and my eyes roll up into my head at how good it feels.

Her fingers pump in and out slowly. She traces her other hand over my nipples, around my neck… just _everywhere_.

Fuck all… I could get lost in this feeling.

Her other hand starts trailing lower and I open my eyes – When did I close them? – to see her head resting between my legs. She grins and sticks her tongue out, flicking my – oh FUCK!

My head slams back into the bed and I _just_ manage to keep from crying out and probably waking up the entire building.

I'm panting and she's still going slowly. But now it's just torture.

"Faster."

She complies with my begging voice and soon I'm bucking my hips wildly against her hands, her lips. I grab a pillow and hold it over my face as…

Oh fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK! Oh my God!

I hear someone screaming, and it's not until I'm coming back down do I realize that it's me. Thank God I grabbed that pillow, otherwise Spencer would be running in to our rescue right now.

I'm completely out of breath. Fuck. Holy fuck bucket. Filled with fucking fuckedy fuck fuck. I'm too tired to be clever.

I feel Carly slide up next to me and I lift the pillow to look at her. She's grinning as she lays half on me. I'd narrow my eyes at her, but that'd take energy I don't have anymore.

"So?"

I move the pillow off my face and watch her.

"Where did you learn that?"

She blushes and looks away.

"Promise you won't laugh at me?"

Okay, that was a rhetorical question, but _now_ I'm _really_ interested.

"Sure."

She looks back at me, smiling a pinched little smile like she's trying not to laugh.

"I um… bought a porno."

I stare at her in… I don't even think there's a word. Shock? Astonishmazement? What the fuckism? Disestablishmentarianism. Heh. That's such an awesome word.

"Where the _hell_ did you buy porn? And _why_?"

She tries to look innocent. And considering we're talking about _porn_, it's just ironically hilarious.

"Um… from Rip-Off Rodney?"

I stare at her, dumbfounded. Like I had lost my dumb, and just found it again. And about ten other people's dumb just followed it into my head. And they had a party. With moonshine and Absinthe. And karaoke. And a midget named Escobar.

"Alright, now I have to laugh at you."

She grins and smacks me playfully in the shoulder.

"Why'd you buy it?"

She shrugs, still grinning shyly.

"I was um… curious. And well… it was a little while after I figured out that I liked girls and, you know, you. So I thought I'd watch it."

I grin and roll her over, climbing on top of her.

"Well, you're going to have to show me whatever it was that taught you that. Because you were _incredible_."

She giggles again and gives me a kiss. I feel a second wind coming and I am still incredibly turned on. Probably even more so by the thought of sweet, proper Carly Shay getting off on a porno.

Oh fuck…

I bite the part of her neck where it meets her shoulder and she moans and it's so fucking sexy. I feel myself getting wet again just from the sound of her voice.

I trail my hand down and start rubbing her through her underwear and she moans again. I think I could do this forever if she'd just keep moaning like _that_.

She grows impatient quickly and reaches down, shuffling out of her underwear. I lean back while she accomplishes the task and I think I'm in awe as she lays back down, a seductive little smile on her lips. She is absolutely perfect. She crooks a finger at me and gives me the international sexy look for 'Get your ass over here.'

I comply and we delve back into the kissing. My leg ends up between her thighs and I feel her slickness. Without thinking about it I start moving up and down on her leg, increasing the friction and the pleasure. She seems to be enjoying what my leg is doing to her as well, because soon she's not kissing me anymore, just holding me as tight as she can as she pants into my ear.

"Fuck fuck fuck… Oh… Sam, that feels… Oh keep going. Oh fuck…"

Alright, Carly letting out little sexy moans and swearing? The sexiest thing ever. E. V. E. R.

All too soon, she throws her head back and I see her biting her lip and letting out little pained moans as her eyes roll back in her head. Her legs are clamped around mine and she's bucking and bucking and…

Oh, oh, oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck ohfuckohfuckohfuckfuckfuckFUCK!

--

I'm struggling to stay awake now. Carly is sitting up in bed next to me, sheet pooled around her stomach. And what's left uncovered is so amazing that I just stare. This view is definitely worth staying awake for.

She's running her fingers over my back, tracing the faded scars there.

"They look a lot better now."

I grunt in acknowledgement. When I was eleven, my mom had a boyfriend who thought the only way to teach a kid some discipline was with a belt.

I saw that as a challenge.

I got him so angry that he split my back wide open. I was a bloody mess when my mom finally woke from her drunken stupor and found me unconscious on the couch, Bastard Fucknut nowhere to be found. I ended up with 147 stitches.

It took a long time for those to heal.

"You're so beautiful, Sam."

I snort.

"Yeah, here I am scarred worse than a burn victim. You're flawless, Carly. If anyone is beautiful, it's you. No one else comes close."

She slides down and climbs onto my back, pressing her naked body into mine. She wraps her arms around me and holds herself as tight to me as she can.

"You are the most beautiful woman I've ever met, Samantha Puckett. And you're all I want."

I grin and turn my head to kiss her. This is more than I'd ever dreamt of getting out of my life. This is all I could ask for.


	6. Chapter Six: Best Last Day

**Chapter 6  
**_Best Last Day_

"Why am I so sore?"

Carly giggles and I glare at her. Spencer let her stay out of school so she could spend my last day with me. We're lounging on her couch – again – watching _Girly Cow_ – again – and whiling away the last morning of my freedom. My idea. I want normal. So much freakin' normal that I choke on it. And then have someone give me the Heimlich so I can have some more. And then I'll choke again. And the pattern will repeat itself.

Enough normal that I can think about it when I go to sleep at night.

"Are you seriously telling me you're not sore?"

She shrugs. I waggle my eyebrows and smirk.

"Would you like me to make you sore?"

Her face turns tomato red and she sticks her tongue out at me.

"Carly Shay! You put that back in your mouth. Don't you know where it's been?"

She quickly pulls her tongue back in and flips me the bird instead. And that's it folks, the game is over! Carly gets NO points for originality, thus ending the contest.

"Really? 'Cause that one's just too easy."

She groans and throws her hands up, staring at the ceiling and shaking her head.

"Why me?"

I grin and turn back to the TV.

"Who ya talkin' to, cupcake? You know that talking to yourself is the first sign that we should go jump in the sack."

Her scream-groan (Gream? Scroan?) is worth being pummeled by a throw pillow. Completely and totally worth it.

--

I'm standing outside the theater, swinging my arms and grinning like a fool. I watch Carly expectantly as she looks from me to the cinema and back again.

"Okay, so why are we at the movies?"

Carly's so cute when she's confused. I decide, however, to release her from this state of mind rather quickly, because I am a compassionate and considerate girlfriend. That, and I'm eager to get this show on the road.

"Because of my impending incarceration, I have decided to make as many good memories as I can today. So, we are going to some lame romantic movie and we are going to make out."

I pause dramatically.

"The whole time."

The goofy grin that creeps onto her face makes my heart sing. And not that fucking Celine Dion song from _Titanic_. That thing needs to be shot, electrocuted and dipped in a vat of hydrochloric acid. Then pissed on and flushed down the toilet for good measure. No, this was more like that song from _The Departed_. The one with the banjo or bagpipes or whatever it is that just makes you scream '_Oh fuck yeah!'_ before you go find some loser and beat the shit out of him for looking like a loser.

Or, you know, Freddie.

"Well then, lead and I shall follow."

I grab her hand and drag her into the theater, where we buy the ridiculously expensive tickets, and then spend two hours making out in the back row of the pretty much empty theater.

I'm not really sure how or when Carly got my shirt off, but I'm really glad she didn't drop it on the ground. Movie theater ground is like licking the sole of a little kid's shoe after they've been in the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese's. Did you know that little kids actually pee themselves while they're in there? I'd hate to be on ball pit cleanup if I worked there. I shudder at the mere thought. These are the things my nightmares are made of.

Eventually, the cleaning crew has to run us out when they realize we're not going to leave under our own free will. Fuckwads.

--

"So I've been thinking. Why don't we just move to Canada? You, me and a can of beans. It'll be great."

It's around one, and we're sitting at a table in the Groovy Smoothie, chugging down a couple ice cold beverages of the smooth variety.

She looks at me curiously, as if she's actually pondering the question. Heh. Ponder.

"Beside the fact you'd be a wanted felon, we're only sixteen and we have no money? I don't know, let me think about it."

I grin.

"We have plenty of money. And come on, it'd be totally cool to be an internationally wanted woman."

She raises an eyebrow in my direction before shaking her head and grinning.

"Nah. It's too cold. Maybe Mexico. Or… Ooo, I know! Brazil! Or… or… Jamaica!"

I'm laughing now, because she's hopping up and down in her seat, clapping her hands like a five year-old on a sugar high. It's just so frickin' cute.

"I've got it! We should go back to Japan!"

Carly just laughs and we start drawing strange looks as we giggle uncontrollably. And really, I don't even know what's so funny. I just know that I'm happy, and I'm with the girl I love.

"Russia! No, never mind. Too cold. Egypt!"

--

We've hired a Sherpa and are trudging up Mount Everest to my apartment, and I'm almost dreading what I'm going to find. It's like when you're at the movies watching some horror flick and someone's about to do something stupid and you just want to scream _Don't go in there!_ But you don't because you know they have to go in there otherwise nothing will happen and the movie will be a lot like _Dude, Where's My Car?_ Which, I'll mention, is one of the three greatest comedies ever made. Not the first time you watch it. Or the second. But when you start hitting the seventh or eighth time, you just get it and it is frickin' awesome. Awesome like a toga party at the Playboy Mansion with see-through togas.

Okay, it's nothing like that at all, but still. I reach the door and pull out my keys.

"Why do I have to be the responsible one?"

I mutter this under my breath, but Carly hears me anyway as I push open the door to my apartment.

The stench of beer and vomit hits me instantly. If this was a new smell, I might gag. Carly puts her sleeve over her nose and tries to breath through her mouth.

I trudge through the apartment and into the kitchen. I pull a trash bag out from under the sink and hand it to Carly, who takes it and heads for the living room. I grab out another one and start in on the kitchen. Because I was only here yesterday, it doesn't take long to get the place near habitable.

After we're done, Carly plops down on the couch – aka my bed – as I walk into my mom's room. I push the door open carefully and peer in. She's out cold and she's alone. Thank God. I don't think I could deal with Random Guy today. I walk over to her bed and look down at her. She's snoring lightly, and there's a small drool stain on her pillow.

I grin slightly at the sight before leaning down and kissing her lightly on the forehead. She mutters something in her sleep and rolls over. I roll my eyes and grab the blankets, pulling them up around her shoulders. When I turn around, Carly is leaning in the doorway, watching me with a soft look.

I cock my head to the side as I walk to her, silently asking _What?_ She shakes her head and pulls me into a deep kiss as I close my mom's door behind me.

--

"Alright, now tell me again why I have to do this?"

I grin at Freddie. He glares at me. Good times. Good times.

"Because it's my last day and you're my friend and _as_ my friend, you want to make this the best last day in the existence of best last days. That and I won't be able to pick on you for few years, what with you being all college-bound and everything, so you owe me in advance."

He groans and rolls his eyes before buckling the chinstrap on the football helmet.

I give Carly a wicked grin before I climb into my shopping cart and put on my helmet. I turn and look at Freddie as he settles into his. Carly is on my team, pushing me, while Spence has gracefully volunteered to be Freddie's 'horse.'

Carly hands me my pink swimming noodle, and Spence hands Freddie his. We're in the parking lot at the grocery store, and we've managed to draw a pretty decent crowd.

Shopping cart jousting rocks. It should be an Olympic sport. I mean, seriously, if _curling_ or _baseball_ can be Olympic sports, then shopping cart jousting has a chance.

"You ready!?"

Freddie nods and holds onto his noodle for dear life. Spencer gives an enthusiastic thumbs up.

"Okay! 3… 2… 1!"

Carly pushes with all her might as her brother does the same. Freddie and I aim for vulnerable spots as we rush toward each other. Okay, I'm creeping and Freddie is flying. I knew I should have picked Spencer. But _no_, I had to be the good girlfriend and pick Carly so she wouldn't get her feelings hurt. I'm so getting slaughtered.

Then, WHAM! Freddie's noodle goes through my facemask and nails me in the face, while mine glances off his shoulder. The shopping cart starts to tip over and I flail helplessly before I have a rough meet-and-greet with the ground. Hello ground, I'm Sam. How're you?

I stare up at the sky for a second, dazed. Carly appears in my line of vision a second later, worried. I grin at her and she grins back. Freddie appears next to her a second later, smiling like a maniac.

"Best of three?"

I nod rapidly and jump to my feet. This is what I'm talking about.

"I get Spencer this time!"

I laugh at Carly's scandalized expression.

--

This is just fan-fucking-tastic. Carly and I were just having a great day, and reality decides to butt its fucking face in. Bastard. Bastard of the bastards. Super fucking bastard. I'm so pissed that I can't think of any fucking bastard thing else.

"Why do you think I've been doing all this? For my health?"

I cross my arms and glare at Carly. We're in the parking lot of some Gas-n-Go place, fighting. Our first fight. Well, our first fight as a couple. Though really, we've been a couple since we were like nine, so I'm not really sure if this counts as our first.

"I don't know. Maybe it's just your pity dished out in advance."

Carly's jaw sets and the look on her face would scare Brock Lesnar. Possibly even Dick Cheney.

"Whatever. You know what, Sam? Just leave me alone. I'll see you in six months."

Fine. I spin on my heel and storm off down the street, fighting furiously to keep my tears from falling. I hate that she can do this to me. I hate that _anyone_ can do this to me. But I hate that it's her most of all. Because I've had enough of people I love hurting me.

I've made it about half a block when a hand grabs my elbow and spins me around. I react without thinking and spin my attacker around until I'm behind them with my arm around the neck, cutting off their air. Then, I smell coconuts and lilac and I realize its Carly.

I spring away from her.

"Oh fuck. Carly I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I didn't know –"

She's gasping for air and holding her throat, but she waves me to stop apologizing, so I do. Barely. I have to be the worst person ever. Her voice is a little scratchy as she finally regains it, and I just feel worse.

"Its okay, Sam. I shouldn't have snuck up on you like that. I know better. I just… I couldn't let you walk away mad. Not today. Not ever."

I soften at her words and reach forward, pulling her into a tight hug. She has to be the most amazing person I've ever met.

"I'm sorry I'm such a jerk."

She chuckles softly into my ear.

"Me too."

We stand there, wrapped in each other for several minutes. Suddenly a thought pops in my mind and I pull away to look her in the eyes.

"And just for the record, I don't think anything we've done today has been good for our health."

She grins and raises an eyebrow.

"Not even making out for two hours?"

Oh. Right.

"We could try for another two hours, just to make sure."

Her laugh raises my spirits again and I lean in and steal a kiss from her.

--

I watch Carly curiously as she brushes the hair out of her face. She totally has make-out hair.

"Why do you love me?"

We're on her bed, recovering from another _incredible _marathon make-out session. Making out rocks. Sex rocks more, but then again, few things can measure up to sex. Ham and Carly are all I can think of. Bacon is close, but ham is definitely the superior pork product. I can't believe I just compared ham to sex. I think there's something wrong with me. Even _I_ know that's messed up.

She shrugs.

"Wow. Great answer."

She giggles. She's always kind of giggly after we make out.

"I don't know. I guess… I know you better than anyone and I feel safe with you and… We're like complete opposites, but totally the same. You're always the person I want to see if I'm feeling sad, or happy or just kind of blah. I hurt when we're fighting, and I _hate_ seeing you hurt. And I never want to stop kissing you."

To prove her point, she gives me a peck.

I grin goofily at her. Life is good.

Well, goodish. Ish is such an awesome suffix. Almost everything can be –ished. Such as: If I weren't going to jail, today would be awesome, instead it's just awesomish. Or – Ham is awesome and bacon is awesomish.

"How about you?"

I shrug and she smacks me in the shoulder.

"Great answer."

I grin like a two year-old with a lollipop.

I watch her as I think of my answer. She's so beautiful and smart and everything and… I don't know where I'd be without her.

"Because you're everything to me."

I won't ever forget the smile that blossoms on her face.

--

"Spaghetti Tacos!"

Spencer's voice penetrates the studio, where Carly, me and Freddie are having an emergency iCarly planning session. Freddie showed up in a panic about twenty minutes ago, wondering what we were going to do with the show without me. I was actually a little flattered.

I think there might have been a pop as air rushed into the spot I had been occupying. I'm sitting at the bar grinning at Spencer, who is still looking up at the staircase, waiting for some acknowledgement.

"Dude."

My voice startles him and he shrieks, leaping backwards. He stares at me for a second before he nods.

"Hey Sam."

I grin and hold my hands out.

"Food."

He smiles and sets my plate in my hands just as Carly and Freddie are making their way down the stairs. They sit on either side of me and receive their food from Spence. He leans on the counter for a moment and watches me eat before grabbing his own plate.

"You know, I'm going to have to remember to buy less food now."

I shrug before a horrific though occurs to me.

This means… no. No no no. This is not funny.

I look at Carly pitifully. She's already noticed the change in my mood and is looking at me questioningly.

"I'm… There's… Will they have ham in prison?"

She bursts out laughing.

"I fail to see the comedy in this. I will be hamless, Carly. There is… This is... I'll go through withdrawals! What am I going to do?"

Freddie and Spencer are laughing now too. I hate them all. They just don't get it.

"I'll bring you ham, I promise."

The tightness that had been developing my chest loosens dramatically and I slouch against her.

"You're the best."

I almost kiss her, but I remember Spencer at the last moment and turn back to my tacos.

I can tell by the blush on Carly's cheeks that the thought crossed her mind too.

--

"Why am I such an idiot?"

It's the middle of the night, and the sheets are all sticky and sweaty and tangled around us and I'm coming out of my euphoric saze from the incredible hex. Wait. Fuck. Yeah, whatever. Sex haze. Haze sex? That sounds like a freshman initiation thing. Dumb asses.

Carly looks at me through sleepy eyes.

"What do you mean?"

I sigh and gather her in my arms.

"I mean, here I am with the most incredible person ever, with some of the greatest people around me – not counting my mom of course – and I have to go and get myself locked up, taking me away from all of it. Taking me away from you. I'd say that qualifies me as an idiot."

She rolls to face me and rests her hand on my cheek. She leans in for a stupend… ous… What was I saying?

"Sam, you've done incredible for yourself. You did what you had to do. It sucks that this is what happens, but at least it's only six months. It could have been _years_. I'll take six months. And I'll come visit you every weekend – to bring you your ham."

I grin and rest my forehead on hers. I just realized that I do this a lot. I think it comforts me. Just like the knuckle rubbing thing. It might just be Carly. She comforts me.

"Can't live without that."

She grins at my joke and I steal a kiss from her.

"Do you think they'll allow conjugal visits?"

She slaps my arm and rolls over snuggling back into me.

"Go to sleep, you horndog."

Best last day _ever_.

--


	7. Chapter Seven: Cake

**Chapter 7  
**_Cake_

You know, I don't think I've ever actually watched the sun rise. I mean, I've been awake when the sun's come up, but I never actually stopped to watch it. It's kind of beautiful. I feel like Brad Pitt in _Interview With a Vampire_ when he was watching the sun rise for the last time. I guess I am kind of vampire-like. I mean, I'm pretty nocturnal. Not that I have a craving to drink blood or anything. Ew. Okay. I so don't feel like that anymore.

I'm sitting up on the roof of Carly's building, staring out over the city as the sun hits it. It's a little cold still – come on, it's April and this _is_ Seattle – but it's nice. It's quiet. I think I like quiet. I'm not really used to it.

"Sam?"

I turn and smile at Carly. Her head is poking out the door to the roof, and her hair is a sleepy mess. She's so beautiful.

"Heya cupcake."

She smiles at me and moves the rest of the way onto the roof wrapped tightly in a blanket. She settles down next to me and leans her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arm around her and pull her tight against me. We're silent for a while, watching until the last threads of red disappear and the sky is a nice clear blue. There are a few scattered clouds, but it looks like it's going to be a nice day.

"Are you scared?"

I try to grin, but fail miserably. This would be so much easier if I didn't care. If I were as much of a loner as I pretend to be.

"Terrified."

She snuggles closer to me.

"Me too."

We hear the door open behind us and we both turn. Freddie's walking toward us, carrying a cup of coffee. He's wearing Spongebob pajama pants and an MIT hoodie. He is such a dork. He sinks to the ground a little way away from us and fishes his cigarettes out of his pouch. He lights up and takes a deep drag before taking a drink of his coffee. He needs to shave.

"Dude, sometimes you're like a forty year old trapped in a twerp's body."

He grins and shrugs.

"Sometimes you're a four year old. Period."

Carly giggles and I smile. I'm going to miss this so much.

--

I stare at the dress laid out on Carly's bed. I have a slight feeling of déjà vu, but instead of my underwear, I'm standing here in a towel. Carly's sitting at her vanity, putting on her makeup. Okay, so it's not like last time at all. Similar vu?

I feel like everything's changing and I have no control over any of it. Not like ever really had any control in the first place, but this is ridiculous. I feel like a goldfish sucked into a tornado. I almost want to start crying out for Auntie Em. Heh. That's such a trippy movie. I really want to do the Pink Floyd soundtrack to it. It's probably bullshit, but it'd still be trippy.

"Do you think things are going to change?"

I look over at Carly. She's finished putting on her makeup and turned so she facing me.

"What do you mean?"

I drop the towel and smirk as she sucks in a breath through her teeth. She notices my smile and chuckles.

"You're horrible."

She's silent as she watches me get dressed. I take my time, teasing her. I want her to think about this. To remember it. Finally I have my dress on. I walk over to the vanity. She moves from the chair and I take her spot so she can start on my makeup. She starts brushing my hair out, long smooth strokes.

"I'm afraid that you'll be different when you get out. That we'll be different."

I look at her in the mirror. I can see that she's really afraid. I reach my hand over my shoulder and she sets one of hers in mine. I squeeze it tightly.

"Of course we're going to be different Carls. That's the nature of the beast. But the most important thing will never change."

She smiles softly and wraps her arms around me.

"And what's that?"

I take one of her hands and kiss the palm. When did I get to be such a sap?

"That I'll always love ham."

Her laughter rings through her room and she tightens her hug.

"You are such a brat. I love you, Sam."

I lean my head back so I can stare into her eyes.

"Love ya too, cupcake."

She leans down and gives me a Spider-Man kiss. The upside-down thing with Kirsten Dunst and… that guy… Oh forget it. It's friggin' awesome. I'll just leave it at that.

We break apart after a minute and Carly starts in on my makeup.

After a little while, there's a knock on the door and Spencer pokes his head in. Carly's finishing up my mascara.

"Hey, you girls ready?"

No. Not in the least. Not even a little bit. I just want to stay in Carly's room forever, not thinking or worrying about any of the shit that goes on outside of it.

"I'll pick no."

He grins and shakes his head.

"Well, that kind of sucks. We need to leave in about five minutes."

I sigh and slump down in the chair.

"Do I hafta?"

He keeps grinning and flashes his open palm at me as he backs out of the doorway.

"Five minutos, mi amigos."

The door shuts with a soft click. I glare at it. I can't help it. Fucking door. It just… fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck! I am so sick of this! I need to fucking kill something or vandalize something or just punch Gibby. Oh yeah. There we go. I'm going to rip his twerpy nerdy fucking head off and –

"Hey, calm down. You're going to be fine, Sam."

All the fight drains out of me and I slump back into the chair. Carly settles herself carefully on my lap. She looks me carefully in the eyes before leaning down and kissing me. I block everything out and focus on the feel of her lips, the feel of _her_. How she smells, how she tastes, how she sounds.

Because this is our last kiss.

--

"Mom. Mom wake up."

I shake my mom violently. If it weren't for the fact I can see her breathing, I'd be worried that she was dead. But no, I'm not that fucking lucky. I know it's horrible. It doesn't change how I feel.

I can't fucking believe this. I told her thirty fucking times that I had court today and that she needs to be there. What does she do? She gets so fucking stoned and drunk that a blowhorn to the ear won't even make her fucking _twitch_. I don't really know why I'm surprised.

"Thanks, mom. Your support is greatly appreciated."

In response, she snores a little louder. Bitch.

"Fine. What the fuck ever. I'll see you in six months. Don't kill yourself."

I love you.

I fucking hate you.

I don't know why I still care. I hate that I still care.

I close the door behind me. Carly's standing in my kitchen looking as if she's prepared to fight off anything that might crawl over her $200 shoes.

"Why do I even care anymore?"

She looks at me with sad eyes.

"Because she's your mom?"

I laugh. It's such a bitter sound that it takes a second to register that it came from me.

"That has to be the worst excuse I've ever heard."

She shrugs and joins me as we begin our hike back down the stairs to Spencer's waiting car.

--

Same judge. What are the odds?

"Samantha Puckett, you are here to enter your plea. If you enter a plea of guilty we will proceed directly to sentencing. If you enter a plea of not guilty, we will set a date for a trail by your peers. How do you plead?"

I take a deep breath and look over at Carly. She's sitting behind and a little to the left of me. Spencer's next to her, holding her hand. I can see the tears she's holding in her eyes and I look back to the judge quickly. I'm not going to cry. I'm a hardened criminal. Hard like 3 year old crusted meatballs.

"Guilty, your honor."

He nods and looks at some papers in front of him.

"It says here you've been offered a shortened term by the DA. This court will honor your agreement with the understanding that if you break it your sentence will be extended to the maximum allowable by law. Do you agree with this?"

I nod mutely.

"Very well. I sentence you to serve six months. You will begin your sentence at the reception facility in the Washington Corrections Center for Women where you will undergo medical examinations and psychological evaluations. Upon completion of these tests, you will be transferred to the King County Correctional Facility. Your time in these facilities will not be less than six months in total, and will not exceed one year, unless the terms of your plea agreement are not met. Do you understand everything as I have explained it to you?"

Jeeze. I don't think he breathed during that whole spiel. Impressive.

"Yes, your honor."

Boom. His gavel startles me and I jump slightly.

"Go with this officer for processing."

I'm handcuffed and led out of the courtroom. I turn and stare at Carly as I walk, burning her face into my mind. She stares back, tears pouring down her cheeks.

_I love you_, I mouth.

She points to me and then hold up two fingers. _You too_.

And then I'm through the door and Carly is gone.

--

"Strip."

I stare at the woman. She stares back.

"Do what?"

I know she didn't just tell me to –

"Strip. Underwear and everything."

I take a step back and hold up my hands defensively.

"Nuh-uh. No way. I mean, I appreciate that you want to see me naked and everything, but I've already got a girlfriend."

She doesn't even crack a smile.

"Strip down and change into these or _I'll_ strip you down."

She points to a nice bright orange jumpsuit on the table next to her. Great. Now I'm going to look like a carrot. At least it's not day-glo yellow. Ugh.

Grumbling to myself, I pull my dress over my head and drop it on the ground. Then off comes my bra and underwear. I feel a little self-conscious. Okay, really self-conscious. She's just staring. I don't think she's blinked once. It's just creepy.

"You're not getting off on this, are you? Because that's just perverted."

Again, no smile. What a frickin' robot.

"Get dressed."

I sigh and grab the granny panties off the table. At least now I know why they wanted my underwear size. With a little struggling, I get the jumpsuit up. Buttons. Figures.

After I finish, she pulls her handcuffs off her belt. I roll my eyes and hold out my hands.

Here we go again.

--

I feel like I'm in college. Except that there's a twenty foot high chain link fence. And way too many orange jumpsuits. But, other than that, college all the way.

"You'll be in here."

I sigh and nod. My arms are full of blanket, pillow and one change of clothes. I get the one I'm wearing dirty and they give me a new one. That's it. Two ugly ass orange jumpsuits.

I walk in and set my shit on the unmade bed. I look over at the other bed. It's made with nice neat hospital corners. Great. A neat-freak. Fuck all.

"Where is everyone?"

The guard smiles at me. She's a lot nicer than the one at the courthouse. No matter how hard I tried, she wouldn't crack. I've already gotten this guard to cry laughing. Twice.

"Rec time. Come on and I'll take you to the yard."

I shrug and follow her back into the pleasantly blue hallway. I've heard the blue is supposed to have a calming effect. Fuckers. Who wants to be calm? Calmness is overrated. Would Terry Hogan have become the Hulkster if he were calm? Would Bill O'Reilly have a billion fucking fanatical followers if he were calm? Would the first pizza ever have been invented had Italians been calm? I think not.

We pass through some darker blue doors. Fucking blue.

The doors open up to a fenced in yard where a lot of women are hanging out, playing basketball, reading, smoking, doing whatever else. Typical prison yard scene. Straight from… a…

Why are there dogs?

"You should be good out here. Lunch is in about an hour, then –"

My hand shoots up and covers the side of my face that just suddenly decided to blossom with pain.

I turn quickly and find the orange and black culprit bouncing slowly away from me. My attention quickly shifts to the basketball court, where a group of girls are laughing madly. One of the women, probably five or six years older than me, Latina with long black hair, jogs over and grabs the ball. After she picks it up, she glances at me, smirks and heads back to her game.

"The fuck was that?"

I turn to the guard, but she's already gone, walking after the girl. Fucking terrific. I shrug and make my way over to an empty picnic table. I take a seat and watch shit. There's the usual playground stuff going on. People having fun, people being too competitive, people stabbing each other in the back, and people who just don't give a fuck.

I wonder where I fit in. That was sarcasm. Of the highest fucking degree.

I lean my head back and stare at the cloudless sky. Huh. Figures. The day I go to jail is the day it's sunny in Washington. A few minutes pass before I feel something nudge my leg. I look down and come nose to nose with a black Lab. I blink at it. It blinks at me. We repeat a couple of times before my face is suddenly covered in slobber.

"Wes!"

The dog turns at the voice and now I'm being assaulted by an iron club disguised as a tail. I futilely fend off the attack before the voice can grab the maniac and haul it away from me. I look up at my rescuer and grin.

"Thanks for that. Your dog?"

She's a pretty tall blonde, average build and a big nose. I keep staring at her nose. I swear I could hide in her nostrils. Jesus H. for holy fucking Christ.

"Nah, she belongs to the jail. It's some kind of prisoner rehab thing. It's kind of cool. Wes here just loves it don't you? Yes you do. Yes you do."

Oh God. She's doing to baby talk to your dog thing. This annoys me like green Jell-O and unsweetened tea. Oh, for a glass of true, Southern sweet tea. Just enough tea to let the mound of sugar dissolve. Mmm… uncontained sugar rush.

"So, you new?"

I nod weakly and shrug.

"Yep. First day. First hour actually."

She smiles and sits next to me.

"What're you in for?"

I sigh and absently scratch Wes behind the ears.

"Stole a few cars. Got caught. Turns out the cops aren't too fond of that type of thing. You?"

She laughs before answering.

"Shoplifting. A _lot_ of shoplifting."

I grin.

"What'd you lift? A sofa?"

She grins back at me.

"A diamond necklace. Or twelve."

I gape at her.

"Twelve? All at once?"

She nods sheepishly.

"Dude, that's ballsy."

Before either of us can say anything else, Wes bolts off toward the basketball court. She stands up and starts running after him. She runs backwards a few steps and yells.

"I'm Allison!"

I grin.

"Sam!"

She smiles and turns to sprint after the Labrador.

Maybe things aren't going to be so bad after all.

--

I fucking hate my life.

I fucking hate my life.

I fucking hate my life.

I am currently staring across the lunch table at the random girl I sat across. She's laughing hysterically at me.

Why? Because I am currently watching baked beans and corn fall from my bangs. **My** baked beans and corn. And meatloaf. At least, I think its meatloaf. It had better be meatloaf.

I turn slowly to see who the fuck would be dumb enough to take food away from _**me**_ and _**waste**_ it in such a childish manner.

It's that woman from the basketball court. I stand slowly and brush my hair back out of my eyes. I see guards quickly making their way toward us, but other inmates are severely impeding them. I smile sweetly at her.

"Is there a problem?"

She smirks at me. Bitch. Queen bitch of the bitchiest fucking bitches.

"You were in my seat."

I take a step to the side and gesture to the open seat.

"I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

She looks at me suspiciously, but takes the seat. As soon as she faces forward, I grab the back of her head and slam her face into her tray. I hear a resounding crack. As she rebounds off the table, I see blood already gushing from her nose. Good. I broke it. The force of her rebound sends her to the ground, but she's up and swiping at me in a split second. Her nails are out and she's trying to gouge a chunk from my face. She gets my arm as I block her. A knee her in the gut is just what she needs. Luckily, I'm here to give it to her. The wind is knocked out of her and she bends over my knee where it's buried in her stomach. I bring my elbow down on the back of her head and she hits the ground.

She doesn't get up.

The guards reach me and tackle me to the ground, pinning me there. I stare at the unconscious bitch as they slap handcuffs back on me. Great. A whole two hours without cuffs. A new record. As they haul me to my feet, I catch sight of Allison. She's grinning and giving me a thumbs up. I wink at her before I lose sight of her.

What a great fucking day already.

--

"She attacked me! Twice!"

The woman sitting across the desk from me just looked at me, disbelieving.

"And yet, she's the one on her way to the hospital. Now why is that?"

I grin. I can't help it. Apparently I shouldn't be smiling, though. It just makes this warden-like substance scowl harder.

"Is there something funny?"

I'm still grinning. Traitorous mouth. But it is funny.

"Kind of. I mean, no. No. Someone getting hurt is only funny when it's a dude getting hit in the balls with a ball."

Her lips quirk into a grin before settling back into her scowl. Nice. She's got a sense of humor.

"Look, Miss Puckett. There are rules here. And stiff penalties for breaking those rules. I understand that you have a plea deal with the DA, correct?"

I nod, instantly suspicious. She opens a file folder on her desk. Fuck.

"Did you know that good behavior is a contingency of your deal?"

Shit. A boulder the size of Kentucky just took up residence in my stomach.

"For every incident you're involved in, I can add up to six months to your sentence."

Fuck. No. No. I have to get out in six months. It can't be a year. Or more no.

"No. Please no. I'm sorry. Please. I'll be good. I'm sorry."

I'm crying. Like a baby. I don't even care. This woman is threatening to take away Carly for six more months.

She looks at me, stunned. I'm guessing this isn't the reaction she was expecting.

"Well, normally I allow the first infraction to slide, but considering you sent Miss Ortega to the hospital, I have to punish you."

I'm sobbing now. My face is buried in my hands and I'm shaking.

"P-please, I'll do a-anyth-th-thing. Please. I'll c-clean toilets for a month. The really g-gross ones."

I hear a sigh from the woman and then the swish of a roller chair moving on carpet. When I look up, she's leaning on her desk, looking down at me.

"I'll tell you what I'll do. You're in solitary for a week, you have to visit with the psychologist every day while you're here, then we'll re-evaluate where you are."

I nod slowly.

"So… No extra time?"

She grins lightly.

"No extra time. As of now. But after a week in solitary confinement, you may wish differently."

No fucking way. A week alone? Fucking cake.

--


	8. Chapter Eight: Round Two

**Chapter 8  
**_Round Two_

Bored.

Bored bored bored bored bored.

Bored.

Oh look, a spider. Hello Mr. Spider. Have you come to keep me entertained?

Aaaaaaaand… I'm bored again.

--

One.

Two.

Three.

--

One thousand six hundred twenty-three.

One thousand six hundred twenty-four.

--

Nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine.

Ten thousand.

Wow. I'd be even more impressed with myself if I hadn't skipped a ton of numbers.

-

Sunlight! Whoo-hoo! I don't really have a window, just a small square up at the top of the room that lets light in. I can't even see through it. Whatever. Light is still good.

I wonder what Carly's up to. Is she getting ready for school? Is she lying in bed wondering what I – Stop. I can't think about that. I'll just get depressed. I need to think of something that will get my mind off Carly.

"Green Acres is the place for me! Wide open is the place to be!"

Shit. Now I really am depressed.

--

Hey, what's red, white, blue and screams?

I don't know, Sam, what?

Smurf in a blender.

Heh.

--

Ham. I need ham. I think I'd buy a pet pig if I could. Name him Hamsquad. Heh. Hamsquad, the defender of ham! Although, with him being a pig, I doubt he'd really want to defend ham. He might attack ham eaters like me. Hmmm… this needs some serious thought.

--

I wonder if Carly –

The door's opening.

"Breakfast time."

BREAKFAST!

I jump to my feet and let the guard handcuff me and lead me to the empty cafeteria. They sit me down and put a tray of… something in front of me. Who cares. They wouldn't feed me stuff that would kill me. I think.

I dig in and quickly realize what I'm eating. Corn-beef hash. Yum. Severely burned, but still yum.

"Slow down."

I pause and look back at the guard. It's the same one that showed me around yesterday. I raise an eyebrow at her quizzically. Awesome Scrabble word. Like 5,000 points on a triple word score. Or something.

"As soon as you're done, it's right back in the cell."

I blink, look back at my food, and do something I've never done. I take my time. There's an apple and some scrambled eggs on the tray as well. Better food than I thought there'd be. I mean, it tastes like frozen rubber, but at least it's recognizable.

Even slowing down, it only takes me a few minutes to finish eating. With a sigh, I climb to my feet and reacquire my shiny bracelets before we head on back to my new home away from home.

--

I wish I had that remote from _Click_. Then I could just skip this whole jail thing. Or at least the solitary confinement. And school. Yeah. But then again I already skip school, so… Heh.

Oh God, I'm giggling. That wasn't even funny! I'm losing my mind already.

The door's opening again. Lunch already?

--

"Are you currently sexually active?"

I nod.

"With my girlfriend."

The nurse looks up at me and raises an eyebrow.

I grin.

"Just in case you were curious."

She smiles slightly and goes back to her clipboard.

"I can probably guess the answer, but are you pregnant?"

I shake my head.

"Have you ever been pregnant?"

I hesitate before I nod.

"Yeah, last year. I had a miscarriage."

Carly doesn't know. It's pretty much the only secret I've ever kept from her. I just… I don't think I could stand the look in her eyes. It was such a horrible experience all around. Some stupid, hurried, uncomfortable _thing_ in the back of a car. I try not to think about it. I don't think about it.

Then, I missed my period. Two pink lines. I've never been more scared. I mean me? A mom? You may as well just stamp 'Fucked Up' on the kid's forehead. Then, two and a half months in, I miscarried.

I was relieved. I wouldn't infect some kid with the fucked up Puckett genes.

I was heartbroken. I had started to think it wouldn't be so bad. That I could do better than my parents – not that it would be hard. But, for a minute there, I was excited.

I laid in Carly's arms for hours crying. She stopped asking me what was wrong after the first hour. It took me forever to get past it. I'm still not past it, but it doesn't rule my everyday like it did for those first couple months after. Every now and then Carly'll bring it up, but I don't answer her and she doesn't push. She's good like that.

After a few more scribbles, the nurse sets her clipboard down.

"Alright, on your feet."

--

They really need to pad these rooms. This is ridiculous.

I mean, what's the fun of bouncing against concrete? Of course, it might not be concrete. It's all white. I'll just knock. Make sure.

Ow! Yep. Concrete.

I wonder if there's anything that…

I knock on the door.

The little window slat slides open.

"Can I have a book?"

The slat slides shut. Guess that answers that question.

--

I sit in the comfy chair. Okay. So not comfy. Deceitful little bastard. I look at the woman in the chair across from me. She's mid-forties, still really attractive. She's got brown hair and green eyes that stare at me through cute little glasses that seem to be just perfectly situated on her face. Everything about her appearance is contrived. It just screams 'Trust Me!'

Like hell.

The guard is standing just outside the room. Even in jail you get some semblance of doctor-patient privilege.

"Samantha Puckett. It's nice to meet you. My name is Dr. Hollinger."

I cock my head to the side and stare at the woman.

"Your parents named you Doctor? Wow. Talk about expectations. I mean, what would have happened if you'd gone on to be a WWE superstar? Of course, you'd have a pretty cool name already, so it wouldn't be all bad."

She grins lightly and writes on her legal pad.

"So. You are here for grand theft auto. And you are in _here_ for assaulting Ms. Ortega."

I beam at her.

"Do you feel any remorse for your actions?"

I pretend to p… think… fuck it. I pretend to ponder the question. Heh. Ponder. I start giggling. I don't really know why that word gets me so much.

"Ms. Puckett?"

I give the woman a dubious look.

"Please. Call me the Almighty Sam. Or Sam. Whatever works for you. And no. I don't regret any of it. I don't like the fact I was in a situation that made doing those things my only option, but do I regret what I had to do to protect and support myself and my family? No. Absolutely not."

She nods and writes down a little more.

"Would you say that you're an aggressive person?"

I grin. That's like asking the Jolly Green Giant if he's tall. Ho ho ho, Green Giant.

"So, attacking Ms. Ortega was your first instinct?"

I nod. What would you do if someone turned your lunch over onto your head?

"And you don't see anything wrong with that?"

Okay, fuck you.

"If she hadn't attacked me in the first place, I would have had no reason to kick her ass."

Her lips form a tight line. Don't even judge me, you bitch.

"Sam, I'm going to be performing a series of evaluations on your mental state, as well as having these sit down sessions ordered by the Superintendent. Now, if something I say or do upsets you, tell me. We can only get through it and help you if we cooperate."

She uncrosses and recrosses her legs. I watch as her smooth, lithe legs move. Being gay in a women's prison definitely has its advantages.

"You know, I bet you'd look amazing freshly fucked."

I have no idea where that came from. I wasn't even thinking that. I can see the surprise in her eyes, but she keeps it off the rest of her face.

"Oh?"

I grin lopsidedly and shrug.

"Yeah, sorry. I didn't mean… Sorry."

She grins and writes something down on her pad.

"It's alright Sam. Do you have these feelings often?"

I roll my eyes and flop back in the chair to stare at the ceiling. Great. This is going to be one of _those_ talks.

--

Twinkle twinkle little…

"Star."

How I wonder what you…

"Are."

Up above the world so…

"High."

Like a diamond in the…

"Sky."

Twinkle twinkle little…

"Star."

How I wonder what you…

"Are."

Everybody!

--

At least the room's not blue. I seriously fucking hate blue now.

--

I'm bouncing around on my bed.

"This is the story of a girl!"

I'm singing at the top of my lungs. Not like I have anything else to do.

"Who cried a river and drowned the whole world!"

The window slat slides open.

"You need to go to sleep."

I hop off the bed, doing a little ninja kick and land in front of the door.

"Can't. It's too quiet."

I see the dubious eyes of the guard roll. It's kind of creepy. They could just have robotic hovering eyes watching all the cells, and none of the inmates would ever know.

"You need to sleep."

I grin and pounce onto my bed.

"Sing me a lullaby?"

The slat slides shut.

--

"So Sam, how are you doing today?"

I shrug.

"I think I'm going crazy. You?"

Scribble scribble.

"Not too bad. Now, anything you'd like to talk about today?"

I nod and lean forward.

"Absolutely. This has been bugging me all night and I _know_ you can help me. Please, can you tell me why Smurfette was the only female Smurf?"

She blinks once. Twice. A twitch of the lips. Another blink.

"Well, she wasn't the only female Smurf. There was a young girl Smurf with red hair. But, Smurfette was created by Gargamel to destroy the Smurfs. Papa Smurf changed her after he figured out what was going on and made her good."

I stare at the woman in astonishment. No one has _ever_ had an answer. It's one of those pointless questions. Like why do you drive on parkways and park on driveways? No one really has an answer.

"Seriously?"

She nods. Scribble scribble.

"Now that I've answered your question, I think it's only fair you answer some of mine."

Sounds reasonable. I nod.

"Who is Carly Shay?"

I freeze. We may have talked about my sexual orientation yesterday, but there was no mention of a girlfriend. My girlfriend. My nameless girlfriend.

"Why?"

She looks up from her pad at my wary tone.

"She called to schedule a visit with you and sounded heartbroken that your visitation rights had been revoked for the moment. Is she your girlfriend?"

I slump back in the chair and stare at the ceiling. Fuck. I didn't even think about that. If I get in trouble, then I don't get to see Carly. No more trouble for me. Ever.

"Yeah."

Scribble.

"How long have you been together?"

I really don't want to respond.

"I dunno. A month. Years. Take your pick."

She looks at me like I'm speaking Dumbassinese.

"What do you mean?"

Why do shrinks always need everything spelled out?

--

Breakfast, health exam. Lunch, talk with Dr. Doctor. Thirty minutes of exercise in the yard. That I usually spend playing basketball. I fucking hate basketball. But it feels good to have some physical exertion. Considering I spend all day alone in a cube. After that is a shower, and then dinnertime. Then back to bed. Fuck all. A person could go crazy.

--

"Let's talk about your father."

I glare at her.

"Let's not."

--

You know, they probably cover my little window with a blackout curtain. Like the kind that were used in WWII. Nazi pricks. It's too fucking dark in here to be natural. I need a night light.

--

"What does your mother do?"

I let out a huff of hot air as I attempt a handstand in the corner.

"Nothing."

Scribble.

"Do you like your mother?"

I think about the question for all of a split second before I accomplish my gymnastic feat.

"I don't think I'm going to answer any more questions about my mom."

--

HAM! They've given me HAM!

Well, seven week old, freeze-dried ham, but its still HAM!

--

I fucking hate the gyno. 'Nuff said.

--

No Dr. Doctor today. It's probably her day off or something. I am ridiculously bored. Like stupid bored.

Time for gross nursery rhymes!

I take a deep breath and the slat opens.

"Got something for you."

I hop on my feet and wait by the tray for her to push whatever it is through.

A book.

I pick up the book and look at the guard, confused.

"Dr. Hollinger said to give you this book."

She pulls the empty tray out and the slat slides shut.

I look at the book again.

_Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_.

What the fuck?

I open the book and see a note on the inside cover.

_This should keep you entertained during the long, boring hours between now and our next appointment. Enjoy it. –Dr. Hollinger_

I laugh before flipping to the first page and flopping on the bed. It's not like I have anything better to do. Heh. Flip flop.

--

The day passes, and then another. I'm now back in the Doc's office.

"So, that was a cool book."

She smiles and nods.

"I thought you'd like it. Do you read much?"

I shake my head. Please, me read? That's like asking a zombie to not eat your brains. Your chances are slim to none and slim just left town.

Then again I did just read an entire book in two days. I hope this doesn't become a habit.

"No. That's probably the first book I've read since _The Cat in the Hat_."

She chuckles.

Scribble.

"Today is your last day of solitary. Are you excited?"

I shrug as I braid some of my hair absently.

"Who wouldn't be? All that criminal influence? I'll learn so much."

Scribble.

"And what will happen when you see Ms. Ortega again?"

I grin. Smack her upside her head.

"Nothing. I'll just walk away. I've got things more important than her."

Scribble.

"Good answer. Now what were you thinking when you said that?"

I glance at her and see the small smile on her lips. It's really not right for a woman to look that good. Especially when she's the only human contact I've had for a week.

"I was thinking about Carly."

She nods and goes back to her pad.

Scribble.

"How are you doing in school?"

I shrug.

"I only go because Carly makes me. Otherwise I'd have dropped out already."

She cocks her head to the side and looks at me curiously.

"You're so incredibly smart, Sam. I'm sure you could be great if you just applied yourself."

I shrug and go back to braiding my hair.

"Yeah, well, that makes two of us. But here's the thing – I don't care. I don't want to apply myself. It's pointless. Why would I want to spend eight hours a day in school only to have four more hours of work to do when I get home? Not to mention trying to eek out a living for me and my mom. Thanks, but I'll just keep on giving a rat's ass."

Scribble scribble scribble.

"Sam, I want you to think about something, and we'll talk about it tomorrow. What's going to happen when Carly graduates and goes off to college? Are you going to go with her, have her support you? You need to think about your future. You don't have that long before it starts."

I just stare at her blankly.

"I'd like to go back to my cell."

--

I'd punch the wall if I wasn't convinced I'd break my hand. Still it's tempting.

I hate that shrink right now. Putting ideas in my head. I mean, I'd _never_ make Carly support me. But then again, what the hell am I qualified to do? Flip a burger? I could be a locksmith. Heh. Yeah, like anyone would let me break into their cars.

No matter what I do, I'll never be pulling my weight. I could work 80 hours a week and not pull my weight.

That doesn't work for me.

I wonder where Carly wants to go to college? We've never really talked about it. I guess she never really thought I'd be interested.

Not that I am. I'm just curious is all.

Really.

I don't need _more_ school ruining my life.

--

Maybe I should learn an instrument. Start a band. The Monkey Pig Pirates. We'd be awesome. Carly could sing. We'd be millionaires.

--

I sigh as I wash the shampoo out of my hair. I'm sick of prison already, and I haven't even really experienced any of it. I mean, I just feel like I got grounded. I don't understand how anyone could volunteer for those psychological experiments where you're a guard or a prisoner. It's like voluntarily giving up ham. And don't even get me started on vegetarians. Or even worse – vegans. I shudder at the thought.

One week down. Twenty-five to go.

I can do this. Not that I have a choice.

I drop the soap. I look down as it lies between my feet and I can't help but giggle as I lean over to pick it up.

--

Morning. Freedom.

I'm led – cuffless – to my original room. I blink as I enter. My bed is neatly made, and a change of clothes is on the end of the bed. I look over at the girl sleeping lightly in the other bed. The only thing I can see of her is a few stands of carrot-orange hair poking out from under the blankets.

The guard shuts the door behind me and I flop down on my bed, only to be greeted by a crinkling sound. I lift my head and look at my pillow. There's a bag of beef jerky where my head had been.

I love Carly.

I rip open the bag and moan in ecstasy at the taste.

"Can I have some?"

I lift my head and look at the girl across from me. Her head is poking out from her blankets and she looks about my age, with creepy-cool, pale almost-white blue eyes. Her face is sprinkled with freckles. Her hair is cropped short, and she has a tentative smile.

I hold out the bag.

"One piece."

She sits up and reaches a hand out timidly. She carefully selects a piece and puts it slowly in her mouth. As she chews she stands and makes her bed.

"Is there some kind of rule that we have to make our beds first thing?"

I need to be sure of these things. I'm not getting in trouble again.

She shakes her head and swallows before she answers.

"No. It's just me."

I cock my head and look at her curiously.

"And who is me?"

She grins and brushes a stray hair behind her ear. It's shy and cute.

"Rachel."

I grin in return.

"Sam."

She nods.

"Yeah, I know. You don't pull what you did in the caf without people finding out who you are. And you know, I've been eyeing that bag since they dropped it off yesterday. I thought I might get away with eating it, but then I'd think about what you did to Susan. Better safe than sorry."

I grin and hold out the bag.

"For restraining yourself, you have earned another piece."

She smiles, and repeats her action from the first time. Her hand is slow and careful not to brush the sides of the bag as she meticulously selects another piece. Then as she chews, she turns to her bed, strips it down and remakes it.

I watch her, wide-eyed, as she does this three more times before I say something.

"Okay, what the hell are you doing?"

Rachel turns back to me and grins weirdly.

"Playing foosball, what does it look like?"

I laugh and shake my head.

Before we can continue any further, the door opens.

"Breakfast."

At Rachel's explanation, I bounce off my bed and point in the distance heroically. She giggles.

"Once more into the breach! They better have bacon."

Rachel giggles again and I grin at her before I walk out.

Time for Round 2.

--


	9. Chapter Nine: Nothing Better

**Chapter Nine  
**_Nothing Better_

The days have passed by agonizingly slow. There is nothing interesting going on whatsoever.

Not really. It's just a long walk to the cafeteria. I sit down with my lunch of mashed potatoes covered in pseudo-gravy, peas and something resembling chicken. These people are worse than school lunch ladies. They're all probably school lunch rejects. How bad of a cook do you have to be to be a school lunch reject?

The area immediately around me clears out. I glance around.

"Do I stink or something?"

There's a light chuckle as someone sits on my right. It's Allison.

"No, they're all just slightly afraid of you."

I grin and am about to dig in when someone sits to my left. This time it's Rachel.

She smiles timidly before brushing her hair behind her ear. She then proceeds to count her peas.

"I just saw Susan in line. She's got two black eyes and tape holding her nose in place."

I look up and spot the girl in question. Ouch. She looks like she got smacked in the face with a table. Heh.

"What the hell are you doing?"

I look at Allison, who is looking at Rachel. I decide to turn my head to look at the petite girl as well. She's still counting her peas.

"Planning how to turn gerbils into my evil minions and then use them to take over the world. Why? Does it look like something else?"

Laughter just explodes from me. Several people turn to look. They quickly look away.

Allison is smiling too, but she's just shaking her head.

"I have obsessive-compulsive disorder."

I grin at Rachel.

"So, what? If something falls on the ground, you have to pick it up?"

She finishes counting her peas, sets her fork down and looks up at me.

"Think about it like this. Say I spill all of my peas on the ground. Immediately, I have the idea that those need to be picked up. Now, because I've had this idea, there is suddenly a gun to my head, and someone will pull the trigger if I don't follow through on the idea. Only, I _know_ there is no gun. And I _know_ that nothing will happen if I don't pick them up. But I cannot physically stop myself from doing it because the gun _will_ go off if I don't."

Jesus.

"Jesus."

She fakes a smile before turning back to her meal and starts methodically eating her peas.

--

It's rec time. I'm sitting at the same picnic table as before, and Rachel is across from me, watching me.

"So, what did you get arrested for?"

I shrug.

"Stole some cars. You?"

She pushes her hair behind her ear again. Nervous habit, I guess.

"I stabbed my dad in the arm. Twenty-seven times. With a pen."

I look at her, wide-eyed.

"For what?"

She looks away, her expression grim.

"For moving the furniture around."

I blink at her for several long moments.

"So I take it you're not a fan of feng shui?"

She giggles and looks over my shoulder.

"Not especially. I got a deal because of diminished capacity. Here comes Allison."

I turn and wave at the tall girl as she walks up. Well, walks as best she can with Wes dragging her.

"Wes! Dammit! Slow down! Hey! Shit!"

He pulls the leash from her hand and sprints the last three feet to me, leaping into my lap in the process. After a few moments of trying to regain my breath and trying to adjust the dog so he's not crushing the life out of me, I turn back to Rachel.

"Diminished capacity, huh?"

She nods and blushes.

"It makes me sound stupid, I know. My lawyer pleaded it out that yes, I knew what I was doing, but there was no way for me to stop myself. That and I was provoked."

I nod and scratch Wes absently behind the ears. Allison leans back against the table and looks at the other girl over her shoulder.

"That's right. You got thrown in here for killing some guy over moving a fork or something."

Rachel rolls her eyes and starts tapping out a cadence on the tabletop.

"Or something."

The conversation drops and I look out over the rec yard. I notice miss black-eyes playing basketball.

"Hey, I'll be right back."

They look at me curiously as I push Wes off my lap and stand.

I walk quickly over the to the basketball court. People stop and watch me with every step I take. When I reach the court, the whole yard seems dead quiet.

She has her back to me, but when one of the other girls nods at me, she looks over her shoulder. Her face is impassive as she turns completely to me.

"The hell do you want?"

I shrug and grin.

"Look, I just want to say no hard feelings. Maybe I went a little overboard, but that was after you got me twice. And you messed with my food. You don't mess with my food."

She looks me up and down before nodding.

"Yeah, whatever. We're cool."

I nod and turn to walk away. Rachel's shout of 'Sam!' reaches me an instant before the ball hits the back of my head and lays me out flat.

Next thing I know someone is on my back choking me.

"You break my fucking nose, then say 'No hard feelings?' Fuck you! I'll fucking kill you."

Spots start swimming in front of my eyes. Then, the pressure is gone and I'm sucking in air like a vacuum. I didn't know that air could actually _taste_ good. I love air. I'm never going to hold my breath again.

I roll over and see little Miss Prissy Bitch being restrained by the guards. Another guard hauls me to my feet and drags my ass away.

"But I didn't even do anything this time!"

--

I hate this office. It's blue.

"Miss Puckett."

I _really _hate this office. Have I mentioned that I hate – nay, _loathe_ – blue? Heh. Nay. Horses must never agree with anything. They always say neigh. That was lame. Mr. Ed is too cool to suffer through lame neigh jokes. Nay? Heh.

"Warden."

She sighs. I roll my eyes.

"Actually, it's superintendent, but that's not the point. You haven't even been out of solitary confinement for a day. Is the rest of your time here going to be like this?"

I shake my head violently.

"No! I didn't even… I walked over to tell her no hard feelings. I was apologizing. She said we were cool, so I turned and walked away and she jumped me!"

She sighs again. I must be really frustrating.

"So my guards tell me. Because you didn't physically do anything – this time – I'll count this as your free pass. Anything else – and I do mean _anything_ – and you will find yourself in jail much longer than you bargained for. Now get out."

I nod slowly, chagrined. Then I look up at her with a mischievous grin.

"Do you have a thing for blue or something?"

She glares at me.

"Out!"

--

Nighttime. Lights out. Rachel is making her bed. Again.

"So, where ya from?"

She pauses to check that I am indeed talking to her. Then she resumes as she answers.

"Seattle. You?"

I grin.

"No shit? Me too. So are you going to King County after you're done here?"

She nods.

"Yep. I've got two more weeks and then I'll be transferred."

I grin.

"Sweet. Maybe we'll get bunked up again when I get there."

She looks at me and smiles.

"Yeah. It'd be nice to have someone who doesn't find it fun to torment me."

I'm silent as I process that.

"Hey, if anyone is pushing you around, let me know. I'll get your back. I'm feared, after all."

She giggles and nods but doesn't face me.

I drift off to sleep to the sound of her stripping her sheets down again.

--

"So I heard you got in trouble again yesterday."

I'm sitting upside down in the chair looking at the underside of Dr. Doctor's desk. For some reason, the chair is immensely more comfortable like this. Deceitful little bastard.

"I just apologized. She came after me."

She mmhmm's me and scratches away at her notepad.

"So, did you think on what we talked about last time?"

I nod.

"Yeah, but I don't know what I can do. I mean, I'm sarcastic, mean, and good at beating people up and stealing things. Not exactly good job skills, you know?"

Scritch scratch.

"But you also have other things going for you, don't you?"

I look at the underside of her desk like she's crazy.

"Yeah. Like ummm… care to help me out here?"

She chuckles.

"You're resourceful, faithful, intelligent and great at reading people."

I raise an eyebrow. Although, considering I'm upside-down, I guess I'm lowering it.

"So, what? I'd be a great poker player?"

She laughs and I hear more scratching.

"Just think on it some more and we'll keep coming back to it, okay? Today we're going to do Rorschach tests. Do you know what those are?"

I nod, but otherwise don't move.

"It's where you show me ink blobs and I tell you if they look like decapitated ducks or bloody human hands or whatever."

I'm assuming she nods, because a few seconds later, a picture is lowered in front of my face.

"It looks like a pen exploded on a piece of paper."

The picture doesn't move. I study it for a second.

"A pony."

The picture is replaced by another.

"A ham sandwich."

When the picture isn't removed, I turn over in the chair and look at her right-side up.

"Seriously. It looks like a ham sandwich."

She looks at me strangely before pulling out another picture. And another. And another.

This goes on for probably an hour. By the end of it, I feel like I'm repeating myself. I've seen at least twenty ham sandwiches and a few plates of bacon. I'm really hungry now. I can't wait for dinner.

"Alright Sam, that's it for today. I'll see you tomorrow."

I blink at the abrupt dismissal.

"That's it? No startling revelations about my disturbed inner workings? No calling the men in white coats because I'm harboring homicidal tendencies?"

She grins and shakes her head.

"Not today. Maybe tomorrow."

I slump in my chair, pretending to be disappointed.

"Fine. I guess I can wait _one_ more day."

She laughs. I climb to my feet and head out to meet my armed escort.

--

It's Saturday.

I'm sitting on my bunk, reading. Gasp! I know, but there's nothing else to do. Rachel is nowhere to be found. I think she's visiting with Dr. Doctor. Whatever.

"Puckett, visitor."

I look to the door and freeze in surprise. Then a smile blossoms on my face.

Carly.

The guard leads me to a community visitation room with tables and stuff. No hands off here in minimum security.

I walk through the door and immediately spot Carly and Spencer.

She grins as I hurry over to her. She stands as I reach her and we wrap each other up so tight I think my head might pop off. It'd be worth it.

When we break apart, she's blushing madly, but still grinning like an idiot. I really want to kiss her, but I remember my other visitor. I look over at Spencer, and he's smiling softly. I grin at him.

We sit down, Carly practically sitting on my lap, she's so close. I sling an arm around her shoulder.

"So, cupcake, miss me?"

Her smile is a little sadder, but she nods.

"Of course. What happened last week?"

I remove my arm from around her shoulders and pick at the paint on the table.

"I got in a fight my first day here. They said I could do a week in solitary or six more months. I took the week in solitary."

Carly's giving me that look. The one that says, 'Sam, I thought we'd been over this. Countless times.'

"Sam."

I look her dead in the eyes, completely serious.

"She dumped _my_ food on _my_ head."

Carly blinks and smirks.

"You and your food. Just don't do it again."

I roll my eyes and nod.

"So, what's been going on in the outside world?"

She shrugs and smiles, turning her entire body toward me.

"Well, Mrs. Benson finally caught Freddie smoking."

My eyes must have been close to popping out of my head because Carly just laughs.

"I know, right? We were on the roof, and she comes out looking for him. I thought a vein was going to pop in her forehead. It was all bulging and gross and Schwarzenegger-like. She was just frozen. And Freddie! God! He just keeps puffing away, staring at his mom. It was like neither one of them had a clue of what to do. It was kind of funny actually."

I smile and laugh at the mental picture of Mrs. Benson. Good for you, Freddie.

"Finally, she walks up to him and pulls the cigarette out of his mouth and puts it in the can he uses for an ashtray. Then she grabs him by the ear and drags him inside, telling him she's going to wash his mouth out with soap until it doesn't smell like he's been sucking on a car exhaust."

I shake my head. She probably gave him a tick bath, too.

"And iCarly's been doing alright, but everyone keeps asking where you are. Me and Freddie decided we'd do special guest star co-hosts until you get back. Because Freddie sucks in front of the camera. Like uber-sucks. He cannot do your job. He's too serious for it. And Freddie doesn't really trust any of his AV friends to take his job. It's like he's afraid they'll take his job. It almost made me wish for Zeebo back."

I shudder. I will forever hate dinosaurs. Especially singing ones that have names that begin with 'Z' and end with 'eebo.'

"So who was your first guest star?"

She points her thumb at Spencer like a hitchhiker.

"Woah. So, how'd you do?"

He grins.

"I didn't set anything on fire."

Carly clears her throat and his face falls.

"Well, not anything important. Just your remote."

I stare at him in disbelief. I've had a lot of good times with that remote.

Spencer holds up his hand pinches the air.

"A little. Very little. It was just superficial."

Carly looks shakes her head.

"The fire department showed up."

Spencer looks at the ground, blushing.

"And the police."

He sinks a little lower.

"And the dog catcher, for some reason that I still can't figure out."

He practically disappears under the table as he tries to defend himself.

"Yeah, well… I didn't think I looked like a Great Dane. Even with the dog collar."

He sighs and straightens out a little.

"After that, I wasn't allowed near the camera. But other than that, it went well."

It feels good to laugh like this. Now if only Spencer weren't here…

"How does it feel to have a bed all to yourself?"

Her cheeks turn bright red, and I can tell she wants to smack me in the shoulder. She won't though, Spencer would ask questions.

"It's different. Weird. I'm not really used to sleeping without you more than once or twice a week."

I grin.

"So, you enjoy sleeping with me. I'll remember that."

Carly does the impossible – she blushes even harder. Spencer looks at us strangely, as if he's trying to figure out exactly what's going on. Time to head him off at the pass.

"How's my mom?"

Carly shrugs, all traces of happiness gone from her face.

"Same as usual. Freddie's been going over with me. He doesn't want me to get trapped there with your mom's boyfriend. We haven't seen him at all, and we've only seen your mom like once, but still."

I nod. I should have thought of that. Freddie's a good man. I'll never tell him that, of course, but it's the truth.

"What about you? How's prison life?"

I shrug.

"About as exciting as staring at a bowl of peas for seven hours, waiting for one of them to move, and then getting whacked in the face by a baseball bat."

She stares at me in confusion.

"What?"

I nod.

"Exactly."

She laughs and throws her arms around me.

"God, I've missed you."

I squeeze her tightly in return as I feel a few tears threatening to make themselves known. I bury my face in the crook of her neck and breathe deeply. I love her smell. I've missed her smell.

"I've missed you too, Carls."

--

This sucks. More than anything. Even more than if all the pigs decided they'd had enough and all jumped in a spaceship and left Earth. Then, they'd find some pig paradise. Like a planet covered in mud and corn. Then, there'd be a giant mud monster and it would develop a taste for pork. And a hero would emerge to vanquish the mud monster! And he'd be Hamsquad, the Defender of Ham! It would be an epic battle and…

Um… yeah.

Seeing the person you love for an hour a week and having no other contact with them sucks like that. Not the Hamsquad part, but the rest of it. Definitely.

"You okay?"

I look at Allison sitting on my right, spaghetti dangling from her mouth. I roll my eyes and shrug.

"Just counting the minutes until next Saturday."

She nods and slurps up some pasta, red sauce ringing her mouth.

"Yeah, I saw you in the visiting room. Who were you with?"

I'm already done with my dinner and I start eyeing Rachel's. Melancholy doesn't affect _this_ girl's appetite. Seeing my gaze, the redhead shakes her head and puts her arm around her food as if to guard it from me. I slump a little. She giggles. I turn back to Allison and answer her.

"My girlfriend and her brother."

Her eyes widen.

"Oh."

Pause.

"You mean like, _girlfriend _girlfriend?"

I look at her strangely and nod.

"Huh. I never would have pegged you. I guess she was kind of cute. Not really my type, though."

Rachel looks over from where she's trying to untangle her spaghetti – and doing a strangely good job at it.

"And what is your type? Someone like Sam?"

Allison mock glares at the grinning redhead. I blush.

"No, it's more… tall, dark and equipped with a penis."

I grin.

"So a dominatrix with a dildo. I'll keep an eye out for you."

Rachel laughs and Allison punches me in the arm. Good times.

--

"Sam?"

Its lights out, and I'm just at that point where I think I might have fallen asleep, but Rachel's voice brings me back from the edge of blissful oblivion.

"Guh?"

I guess she understands my grunt. Which is really impressive, considering it could either have meant 'What?' or 'Fuck off, I'm sleeping. Disturb me and you shall die. A permanent kind of death that will leave you deader than dead dirt with dead things in it.' Whichever.

"How did you know you were gay?"

I sigh. It is way too late at night for this talk. And it's not like I've got any helpful hints for her. Hell, I didn't even know.

"Iunno. Shup an godoslep."

Everything is silent again, and I hope she's taken my pillow-muffled suggestion and nodded the fuck off.

I can already see Carly waiting for me in dreamy-land when Rachel's voice rudely pulls me back again. I sit up violently and glare through the darkness at her.

"What the fuck do you want!? I don't have anything for you! I didn't fucking know until Carly kissed me! I mean – fu – the – shit! I – th – fuck! Why are you laughing!?"

I am so beyond pissed that laughter is a capital offense. Punishable by a death even deathlier than the aforementioned death. Ooh. Aforementioned. Big word.

"I'm sorry. I just… I think…"

I roll my eyes and flop back onto my bed as I commence staring into the blackness of the ceiling.

"You think you might be gay and you just want to know how I knew and just to be sure would I kiss you and yadda yadda yadda. Well, it ain't happenin' sister. I had to figure it out on my own, and you're on your own too. That's the way of shit. Now stop laughing."

I can hear her trying to control her giggles, and the sound makes me smile.

"Sorry to burst your bubble, Sam, but I'm really not into you, or girls. At all. I'm wondering because I think my sister is, and she's a lot like you, so…"

I'm blushing. Fuck.

"Yeah. Sure. Likely story. Now go to sleep. And never mention this conversation again. Ever. Like the ever ending ever of evers. And beyond."

I smile at her soft laughter as I'm finally allowed to drift off to the wonderful world of dreams, where Carly awaits me with a slab of ham and a four-poster bed.

Mmmm. Nothing better.

--


End file.
